


don't waste the moon

by deepestfathoms



Category: The Prom (2020), The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Anxiety, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Assault, Performing Arts, Strangers to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, dee dee as margaret is directly inspired by alice ripley's version of margaret, emma is a himbo, kinda? their characters are dating but then it becomes real lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 94,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29185449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: When Carrie opened up in her local theater, all Alyssa wanted to do was potentially pursue an acting career. She did NOT expect one of the women in the green room to be so friendly towards her, nor did she expect them to get the roles of Sue and Tommy.Even though they were just playing characters, Alyssa had to admit that the chemistry between them was incredible.--OR: Theater AU
Relationships: Alyssa Greene/Emma Nolan
Comments: 25
Kudos: 62





	1. Come Alive

**Alyssa**

It was raining.

The water pouring out of the sky felt dirty before it even hit the ground, gritty and grimy like seemingly everything else in this city. It sluiced into the gutters and mixed with only God knew what other filth, lifting and floating discarded food wrappers, newspaper ads, and other bits of refuse. Even a thunderstorm couldn’t wash these streets clean.

The rain pounds over Alyssa’s trademarked green umbrella, splashing her with stray drops as she half walked, half jogged down the street. A street sign swam up out of the sheeting rain as she neared the corner: 14th and Martin.

She stared stupidly up at the sign for a second, slack-jawed. Her heart, already racing from the adrenaline rush of being caught in a rainstorm, started thudding like a hammer in her chest. A fat, grimy drop of water dripped off the edge of her umbrella and down the back of her neck, breaking her bemusement with a violent shudder.

Great. Just great.

It was audition day, it was raining, and she was about to be late. And now she was pretty sure she was lost.

The director was going to kill her.

Taking a deep breath, Alyssa stepped off the sidewalk and into the street, raising her hand to hail a cab. Her black loafers soaked through immediately, chilling her feet to the bone and making her shiver; they were one of her nicer pairs of shoes, but now they were being tormented by being submerged in the hellish current splashing down the street. A discarded newspaper wrapped wetly around her ankle for a second. She glanced down and half the headline-- **“NEW BROADWAY MUSICAL: HUGE HIT OR ABSOLUTE DISASTER?”** \--jumped out at her before the rushing water pulled it off and away toward the gutter.

She didn’t have to wait long before a cheerfully yellow cab flashed its lights at her and pulled to the side of the road. But Alyssa had barely taken two steps toward it when a woman stepped off the street in front of her, heading for her cab.

Scrambling forward, Alyssa waved a hand like she would do if she were grabbing the attention of a deaf person and the lady turned to her. Her hawk-like features didn’t intimidate Alyssa. She just gathered herself up as well, making herself look bigger.

“Please,” She said with as much conviction as she could muster over the downpour. “I'm about to be late to a really important audition and I can't afford to wait for another cab.”

The lady looked Alyssa over skeptically. Her lie must be convincing, perhaps how young she was appealed to emotion, too, because she stepped aside and gestured for the younger woman to take the cab.

Dripping and cold but victorious, Alyssa thanked the woman profusely and then slid into the backseat of the cab. 

“Twenty-third and Washington,” She told the driver. “As fast as possible, please.”

The cab pulled away from the curb in a muddy wave, weaving in and out of traffic in a way that made Alyssa decidedly nervous, given the way the cabbie was looking at her in the rear view mirror instead of at the road. She huddled into her wet clothes and watched the windshield wipers flop rhythmically back and forth, trying not to check the time every five seconds.

The radio was tuned to a couple of talking heads debating punishment for animal abuse.

 _“They’re just animals--”_ One of them said, but he was interrupted by the other shouting, _“They’re living, breathing creatures just like we are. You don’t think they have feelings? Or can feel pain? I think the punishment should fit the crime. If you burn your dog’s head with a cigarette then YOU should be burned, too.”_

“What’s the big hurry?” The cab driver asked. The car cut across two lanes to make a sudden right turn, leaving a cacophony of horns and screeching brakes in its wake.

“I have a really big audition today,” Alyssa said. “And I’m kinda late.”

The cabbie made a sympathetically amused face at her in the rear view mirror. 

“I hope this show is worth it.” Then, he squinted at her before raising his eyebrows up. “What do you do for a living? This your first show?”

“I mean, I did theater in high school,” Alyssa told him, trying not to grab the ceiling handle as the cab started to fishtail in the half-flooded intersection. She asked him to go fast, after all. “But I’m a journalist. I’d like to maybe make acting my main career, but there’s a lot of competition.”

The cabbie laughed, rocking his hand back and forth. “You can say that again.”

“This is 23rd,” Alyssa pointed out when the driver seemed to be about to miss the turn. He wrenched the wheel to the right. The cab hydroplaned through the pool of water that used to be an intersection and for a second it tilted crazily onto two wheels. Alyssa grabbed for the ceiling handle again and hung onto it with white knuckles, but the cab made the turn and settled back onto all four wheels with a squeaking complaint from the suspension.

The driver grinned at her in the rear view mirror. “So, what’s the show?”

Alyssa forced her fingers to peel away from the handle, trying to relax. Just a few more blocks. “Carrie.”

His eyebrows raised up. “Wasn’t that the musical that flopped hard on Broadway in the 80s? I heard that the pyrotechnics they used burned a ton of the cast members. And didn’t someone almost get decapitated by the cars they used?”

“Yeah, that was Barbara Cook,” Alyssa said, nodding slightly. “She quit on opening night, I believe.”

“Damn.” The cabbie whistled. “What a time to leave a show.” Alyssa was sure he wasn’t even watching the road at this point. “Think this take will do better?”

“I sure hope so,” Alyssa said. She hadn’t been nervous about the show doing terribly before, but now she was. It wasn’t like they were using the original version of the musical, but still. If she got in, would people even like it?

Alyssa leaned further into the backseat of the cab. The rain slowed, then stopped, but surely just for a moment, knowing New York’s awful weather patterns. As the driver turned the final corner, a ray of sun burst through a break in the clouds, glinting off the cracked, slippery sidewalks and flashing rainbows over the oily slicks coating the asphalt. It might have been silly, but Alyssa could feel her heart lift at the sight of that little beam of light.

Then the cab pulled up in front of the theater building, and her heart dropped right back into the hole it just crawled out of.

This was it. She was either about to pursue her dream of acting or completely embarrass herself in front of professionals.

Alyssa paid the cabbie, internally wincing at the cost of the fare, and stepped out of the cab, stumbling a little to avoid the muddy puddle lapping gently at the curb cut. The few steps between the edge of the street and the storefront-- **“The Globe Theater”** was what the giant letters above the front doors said--suddenly seem like an impassable distance. She rolled her shoulders uncomfortably, not enjoying the feeling of being all soggy, especially when she was supposed to be professional. It stopped raining for the moment, but her jacket was still damp and it scraped wetly against the back of her neck as she walked.

Finally, the threshold was crossed and Alyssa was inside. The chill of the AC crept into her bones and the clean, crisp smell of the building tickled her nose. Everything looked so refined, even the one theater worker standing in the lobby, with her sparkling jewelry and ironed blazer and precise makeup. When she looked up from the laptop she had, she raised an eyebrow at Alyssa’s dripping form.

“Here for the auditions?” She asked, amusement in her voice. At least she was disgusted by Alyssa’s slight messiness.

“Yes ma’am,” Alyssa nodded.

“You’re right on time,” The woman said, much to Alyssa’s relief. She hand Alyssa a small slip of paper with a 58 on it and pointed to a door. “Go through there and just follow the sound of voices to the green room. We’ll be beginning soon. And the bathrooms are right over there if you want to clean up really quickly. You have some time.”

Alyssa dipped her head. “Thank you.”

She decided to stop by the bathroom to make herself presentable. When she looked in the mirror, she luckily found that her makeup hadn’t been ruined, but her hair was slightly ruffled from the rain and wind. She took a brush out of her bag, thanking God that she decided to bring it, and tamed her dark brown locks before heading to the green room.

As the woman in the lobby had said, it wasn’t difficult to find the green room. She just had to follow the sound of chattering voices and quickly stepped into a room full of other people.

There were dozens of other wannabe actors inside, much too many for her to keep track of. They were all either singing out loud or reciting lines or stretching or repeating different tongue twisters to themselves. Alyssa had to carefully weave around several different people to simply find a semi-empty place to stand comfortably. Instead of indulging in noise-making like the others, she decided to go over her paperwork and headshot to make sure they were all perfect, which they were, but she had to make sure again, just in case.

“Hey!”

Alyssa’s head shot up so fast she was surprised her neck didn’t snap. Standing in front of her was a rather pretty young woman, around her age, wearing jeans, a red polo shirt, and a blue flannel. Dirty brown curls fell around her soft face, and large, light pink glasses shielded her bright hazel eyes, which had flecks of green and gold in them. She looked way more casual than Alyssa’s pristinely-ironed blue dress and black blazer.

“Hi. Sorry, am I in your seat?” Alyssa said, quickly standing up.

“Oh, no!” The woman said. “I’m just making friends, that’s all!” She grinned, and it weirdly made Alyssa’s heart flutter slightly.

“Friends?” Alyssa sat back down, and the woman sat next to her. She tilted her head. “Aren’t we all competition?”

“Kinda?” She tilted her head, too, and she kinda looked like an adorable puppy. “But still! Might as well befriend people if we get in together. Then I’ll have someone to talk to!”

Alyssa laughed slightly. “Fair enough.” She looked out at all the others. “So, why’d you choose to come up to me? I’m Alyssa, by the way.”

“Emma,” Emma said, then shrugged. “Also you looked interesting. And you’re pretty, so bonus points there!”

Alyssa blushed lightly. “Aren’t you a seducer?”

Emma grinned again. “I suppose I am.” Her pretty hazel eyes shifted back out to the crowd of people. “There’s a lot of competition, huh? Think you’ll get in?”

“I sure hope so,” Alyssa said. “I mean, it’s fine if I don’t, but I would still like to.”

“Oooo, modest,” Emma said. “ _I_ hope I do good. But I don’t know.”

“Now who’s being modest?” Alyssa teased, and Emma laughed. “Know anything about the play?”

“Oh, yeah!” Emma perked up. “Carrie is one of my favorite horror movies. 2002 is the BEST version of the movie and I will NOT take criticism on that.”

“Why would I criticize you? You’re right!”

Emma beamed, and it was like the sun was smiling at Alyssa. She couldn’t help but smile back.

“Angela Bettis was SO GOOD as Carrie!” Emma went on enthusiastically. “Usually I don’t like adults playing teenagers, since she was, like, 29 or something, but she pulls it off SO WELL! I swear, that woman hasn’t aged at all. She’s like an ancient swamp creature or something.”

That made Alyssa bark a laugh so loud a few people looked over at her in confusion. Alyssa shut her mouth quickly and ducked her head while Emma tittered at her side.

“Have you read the book?” Alyssa asked.

Emma wrinkled her nose slightly. “Yeah. But Stephen King’s writing is kinda weird. Like, why did he, an adult man, write Carrie, an underage teenage girl, touching herself? It did not sit right with me at all.”

Alyssa nodded. “You’re absolutely right. I couldn’t actually finish the book. I didn’t want to ruin the illusion that everything was okay.”

“Well, I got some news for you,” Emma said. “If you get into the musical, you’ll have to live through it.”

Alyssa rolled her eyes and nudged her side affectionately. “I know that, dummy.”

At that moment, the director, a middle-aged man with slicked back brown hair, entered. He looked eager as he looked out at the crowd of people gathered for his musical and quickly commanded silence from everyone with his presence alone.

“Hello!” He said animatedly. “I am Trent Oliver, director and Juilliard graduate! I’m so happy to see so many people here today to try out for my production! We’ll be beginning now, so listen for your number to be called. Tomorrow will be the second part of the auditions, so come in your dancing shoes! I wish you all the best! Break a leg!”

The first person, a young woman with kinky hair, was whisked through the set of doors while everyone got comfortable to wait. Emma nudged her, then brandished her own slip of paper.

“I’m 43,” Emma said. “What’s yours?”

“58,” Alyssa showed her her own. 

“Looks like we’re waiting together, then,” Emma said.

And wait they did.

Alyssa had known it was going to take awhile, but it still took a lot longer than she initially expected. Luckily, Emma was there to pass the time with her, and she soon realized they were chatting with each other as if they had been best friends for years.

“I heard Barry Glickman and Dee Dee Allen are trying out,” Emma said at one point.

Alyssa’s eyes widened. “Really?” She said. The thought of performing with THE Dee Dee Allen and Barry Glickman made her head spin in wonderment.

“Mhm,” Emma nodded. “But some people are worried the auditions are going to be rigged. Since they’re famous and all.”

“But it’ll be weird if Carrie was played by an adult woman,” Alyssa pointed out.

“True! But then again, when has theater ever had actors that are the same age as their characters? I mean, look around us!”

Alyssa did, and she realized that Emma was right. Mostly everyone there was young adults, most likely college aged. The youngest seemed to be a small redheaded girl, probably fifteen or sixteen, hunched in the corner, staring nervously down at a packet of papers in her hands. Unlike everyone else, she looked absolutely terrified about being at the auditions, and if Alyssa squinted, she swore she could see her shaking slightly. Alyssa felt sympathy for the little one.

“That is also true,” Alyssa said. “But still! Dee Dee Allen is too old to pass for Carrie.”

“Shh!” Emma hissed. “You know how that woman is with her age. Do you WANT to be eviscerated?”

Alyssa snorted. “Oh, please. She’d never do that. That would get her WAY too much bad publicity. Poisoning is more up her alley.”  
Emma laughed. “I can see it.”

Time continued to pass. More people were called out for their audition. Alyssa and Emma’s conversation went on avidly.

“You do something?” Emma asked. “Like, a job? Want to do something? College? Yay, icebreakers!”

Alyssa laughed. “I’m a journalist right now, but I would like to pursue acting. So hopefully this goes well.” She paused for a moment and drummed her hands against her thighs. “I wanted to open up a big cat rescue at some point.”

Emma raised one eyebrow as she took a swig from the teal water bottle she had. “Oh? And how’d that go?”

“Not very good,” Alyssa said, laughing slightly. “I mean, I didn’t get very far with the concept.” She paused for a moment. “Are you only asking about it so you can get free tickets to see the tigers?”

“How’d you know?” Emma grinned at her.

Alyssa chuckled at how adorable she was. “Yeah, but it’s a lot harder to make a sanctuary than I thought. I don’t even know how or where to get the animals.” She said. “You think Etsy sells them?”

Emma giggled into her hand. That warm, fluttery feeling in Alyssa’s chest was back and stronger than before. She tried to take a sip of her own water bottle to cool it down, but it didn’t work.

“Maybe if you make a special request,” Emma said.

Alyssa nodded wisely. “If I ever decide to try again with the sanctuary, I shall do that.” 

“You can hit me up if you ever need assistance.” Emma said. “Actually--” She pulled out her phone and opened up her contacts. “Here’s my number.” She put it onto Alyssa’s thigh.

For a moment, Alyssa was dumbfounded, then quickly began copying the number on the screen into her own phone. After she was done, she sent Emma a simple text that read, _“Hi. :)”_

Emma responded with, _“hello!”_

Then, she looked up with an eyebrow quirked and said, “You’re one of those people who type in proper punctuation and grammar?”

“Yeah. What about it?” Alyssa narrowed her eyes at her playfully. 

“I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a noble,” Emma said, and Alyssa laughed.

Just then, the green room door opened and a man called out, “43!”

Emma jumped up. “That’s me!” She smiled at Alyssa. “Well, here I go!”

“Break a leg!” Alyssa smiled back at her. “You’ll do great!”

Emma disappeared out of the room, leaving Alyssa with the people who remained. She sat back and took another sip of her water bottle, realizing only then how thirsty she was. She had been talking so much that she dried her mouth out.

Without Emma there to keep her entertained, Alyssa had to take to people watching and messing on her phone. She noticed a few people talking with each other, while others were still stretching. That redheaded girl was sitting up straight, now, but didn’t look any less anxious. She kept rubbing her palms against her thighs and fidgeting with her pants string. She looked like she needed a friend, so Alyssa got up and went over to her.

“Hey,” Alyssa said softly, but the girl still jumped anyway. Her eyes were a dazzling silver color when she looked up at her. “Can I sit here?”

The girl looked around, as if she thought Alyssa was talking to someone else, then nodded. Alyssa sat down next to her, and she realized how sharply dressed the girl was. She was wearing a white shirt that was tucked into black pants and a grey cardigan. An expensive-looking necklace was wound around her narrow neck, which she kept twisting her fingers in, pulling the gemstones on the chain taut.

“My name is Alyssa,” Alyssa said, hoping she wasn’t coming off as creepy for trying to talk to the girl. She just wanted to try and help calm her down, seeing how nervous she was.

“I-I’m Winnie,” The girl said, stuttering slightly.

“That’s a really pretty name,” Alyssa said. “So… How do you think you’ll do? You got an advantage, you know. You’re the only teenager here, and Carrie mainly has high school characters.”

Winnie shifted. “I don’t know how I’ll do. I’m kinda nervous.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Alyssa smiled at her reassuringly, and Winnie cracked a small smile at her back.

The two of them continued to talk until Emma came back in to gather her things. Emma looked proud of herself when she strode up to Alyssa to tell her how she did.

“I think I have this part in the bag!” Emma said confidently.

Alyssa laughed. “Easy there, tiger,” She said. “You don’t want to jinx it.”

“I know, but still!” Emma said. “I think they really liked me!”

“That’s good!” 

Emma grabbed her bag. “I have to go now, but I bet you’ll do great, Alyssa!”

“Thank you, Emma. I hope you’re right.”

Once Emma was gone, Winnie quietly said, “She’s kinda loud.”

Alyssa snorted. “I think it adds charm.”

Winnie furrowed her eyebrows at her at that, but didn’t press it. She just looked back down and knotted her fingers in her necklace again.

Soon, Alyssa’s number was called. She stood up, suddenly feeling very dizzy, gathered her papers and got best wishes from Winnie, then walked to the door.

“Right this way,” Said the man who called her number.

Alyssa followed him to the stage, which was completely dark aside from the glaring stage lights. Trent and people she assumed were the producer, casting director, and music director were sitting at a table on the apron. She had to wait in the darkness of the wings while she waited for the person before her, a young man with a ponytail, finished the song he was singing. When it was finally her turn, she took a deep breath and walked out onto the stage.

Instantly, the lights stabbed straight into her eyes. They were so bright that she could barely actually see the people at the table. She wondered if that was done on purpose, so performers wouldn’t have to see the judgemental stares of the directors boring into them.

“Hello!” Trent’s voice sounded from the brightness, as enthusiastic as before. 

“Hello!” Alyssa said back, trying to match his energy. The articles she read on what to do in an audition said directors liked confidence. She dipped out of the merciless light for a moment to hand him her papers and headshot.

“What’s your name?” Trent asked.

“Alyssa Greene,” Alyssa said.

She faintly heard a pen scratching on paper. “Alright, Miss Alyssa Greene, tell us a bit about yourself.”

Alyssa faltered only for a moment, then began speaking, “I was born in Edgewater, Indiana, but I moved to New York with my mom a few years ago. I took theater in high school, but I also did cheer and debate. I’m a journalist right now, but I’m hoping to possibly start a career in acting.”

She saw the outline of Trent’s head nodding. “What did you star in before this?”

“I was Kaa in The Jungle Book, Othello in Othello, Anita in West Side Story, Elizabeth Proctor in The Crucible, The Baker’s Wife in Into The Woods, and Angel in Marisol.”

Another nod. “And what song have you chosen to audition with today?”  
“There Are Worse Things I Can Do from Grease.”

There was a soft, very slight noise of interest, but Alyssa couldn’t tell if it came from Trent or one of the other managers.

“Whenever you’re ready, Alyssa,” Trent said, and Alyssa could hear a smile in his voice. She tried to not get too excited over it; he probably did that with everyone who auditioned.

Alyssa took a deep breath. She looked over at the pianist at the corner of the stage and nodded. She nodded back at her. The music soon began and Alyssa let herself sink into the melody of the song.

The words came easy, easier than Alyssa would have expected while performing in front of professionals. They slipped from her tongue like hot butter, filling the space around her. She completely let the song envelope her in its embrace.

It ended a lot sooner than she expected. When she was done, the people at the table clapped and she dipped her head.

“Very good,” Trent said. “Very good, Alyssa. Thank you.”

Now Alyssa understood why Emma had been so confident.

* * *

The dancing portion of the auditions was much harder than the singing part. It always was, at least in Alyssa’s opinion. The elaborate steps they had to do completely exhausted her, and she didn’t even understand _why_ they had to do them. Carrie was not a dancing musical by any means. 

However, Emma made it all manageable. Emma had bounded up to her the next day, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and gleefully talked to her while they waited. She danced next to her and helped her during the actual audition, and at that point Alyssa was sure there was SOMETHING there between them. This wasn’t high school anymore; why else would Emma just randomly come up to her and be all friendly?

Alyssa’s theory was proven more and more as she and Emma texted each other during the wait for casting results. Even if they both didn’t get in, Alyssa was sure they would still talk, but she was really hoping that Emma got some sort of role in the show. She deserved it.

Soon, Sunday came, and Alyssa rushed to the theater. There, on the front doors, the list was posted, and her heart leapt into her throat when she read through it.

**Carrie: The Musical Casting List**

**If your name is posted, you are expected to be at the theater tomorrow at seven in morning to begin workshopping!**

**Thank you to everyone who tried out!**

**Carrie White- Guinevere Thompson**

**Margaret White- Dee Dee Allen**

**Sue Snell- Alyssa Greene**

**Tommy Ross- Emma Nolan**

**Chris Hargensen- Kaylee Klein**

**Billy Nolan- Nick Boomer**

**Miss Gardener and Interrogator 1- Angie Dickinson**

**Mr. Stephens, Reverend Bliss, and Interrogator 2- Barry Glickman**

**Frieda- Hayden Shield**

**Norma- Linda Speelman**

**Helen- Natalie Saunders**

**George- Kyle Lim**

**Stokes- Marcus Brown**

**Freddy- Noah Smithson**

**Ensemble Members-**

**Jess Roman**

**Alex Jackson**

**Kay Myers**

**OJ Hurst**

**Elisha Irvine**

**Emily Pike**

**Foster Stacey**

**Christy Willis**

**Bee Lam**

Alyssa couldn’t help the grin that split across her face. She got in! And not only did she get in, Emma got in, too! And they got the couple parts!

That made her ears heat up slightly. She and Emma were going to pretend to be a couple.

As if she could read her mind, Emma’s voice sounded from behind her, “I hope you’re ready, Greene! I’m a real stud in a letterman!”


	2. Trance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg the support i got on the first chapter im-- 🥺🥺 y'all are so sweet!! thank you to everyone who left a comment, they mean the world to me!!! i hope the au continues to interest you all! :}

** Emma **

“YOU DID IT!!!”

Emma laughed as her cousin clapped her on the back hard enough to make her pitch forward slightly in the booth. She straightened up before she could ram into the table and grinned at him, puffing her chest out.

“Indeed I did! Your cousin is in a musical!” She said proudly.

“I’m so proud of you!” Greg said brightly. “I knew you could do it!”

“Congrats, Emma!” Her best friend, Kevin, told her, also smiling. “Now you and my sister get to be together all the time! You better not replace me.”

Emma laughed. “I won’t, I won’t! Nobody can replace you!”

Her eyes then slid through the shifting crowd, to the stage extended out from one of the walls. Sitting on a stool, Hayden, Kevin’s twin sister, was playing an old guitar and singing into a microphone set up in front of her. The bar’s stage was nothing compared to the theater stage she would soon be performing on.

“Why exactly is she singing here again?” Emma asked Hayden’s brother.

Kevin shrugged. “Make some extra cash? Or she’s just preparing for the role.”

“True, true,” Emma nodded. She leaned back against the padded cushions of the booth. “Wow. We both really got in.”

Greg laughed. “NOW it’s hitting you?”  
“I mean, it hit me when I first read the list!” Emma said. “But now it’s really sinking in. I’m gonna be a performer!”

Kevin and Greg both grinned widely at her. 

“And we’re going to be your biggest fans!” Kevin said.

The tune of the guitar being played from the stage wafted through the air, slowly filling Emma’s ears and easing the slight stress in her muscles. She would never admit out loud that she was nervous about being the lead in a musical. She was confident in her singing and dancing, but she still couldn’t help but worry about her ability to keep up with everyone else. What if she wasn’t good enough? What if she forgot her lines? What if she couldn’t memorize them at all?

“Emma?” Greg was looking at her, his dark brown eyes slightly concerned. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma nodded quickly. “I’m good.”

“Uh ohhh,” Kevin said over the sound of clapping as Hayden finished the song she had been playing. “I think our little Emma is nervous!”

Emma blustered. “I am NOT!”

“I think you are,” Kevin smirked. “It’s okay to be nervous, you know. Nobody is expecting you to be able to tackle this on the spot. It’ll probably be at least a little scary.”

“I am NOT nervous,” Emma said firmly. “I am a natural-born singer and actor! I can do this easily! I could play EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER if I wanted to!”

Kevin raised an eyebrow as he took a sip from his glass, then snorted into the drink.

“I can vouch for that,” Greg piped back up. “You should have seen her in our elementary school play. She was an AMAZING cow! Really stole the show with that one!”

Emma elbowed him in the ribs, then said, “I still can’t believe nobody recorded it.”

Greg laughed loudly. “You CRIED over that!”

“Heyyy--” Bottles and glasses were unceremoniously pushed aside and a guitar case was dumped onto their table. “What’s going on? I swore I could hear y’all blabbering from the stage.” Kevin snorted and caught the newcomer’s attention. “Oooh, Kevin is laughing. Wait, what am I saying? He always laughs! Did I tell y’all the automatic trashcan story yet?” She grabbed one of the untouched ciders on the coasters. “This is mine, right? Either way I’m keeping it but--”

“Hey, sis.”

“What’s up, Hayden!”

“Hey!”

“So, what’s the scoop? What’s the tea, as we like to call it?” Hayden said while plopping down beside Kevin and taking a quick drink of the cider. She made a face at the taste, but continued to drink it anyway. “This is disgusting. What’s going on?”

“Celebrating,” Emma smiled at her. “We got into Carrie!”

“Hell yeah we did!”

They lean over the table to high five.

“I’m so proud of you,” Kevin slung an arm around his sister’s shoulders to hug her. Even though boy-girl twins weren’t supposed to look similar, Emma swore Kevin and Hayden weren’t alike in any way. While Kevin had short, brown hair, Hayden had long, naturally curly blonde hair. Hayden was tanned and had very broad features from working out, while Kevin was lanky and slightly pasty. Not even their eye color was the same, as Kevin had blue eyes and Hayden had dark brown eyes. Sometimes Emma wondered if they were actually twins or if they were just pulling a really long prank on everyone.

“Never doubt me!” Hayden said, as confident as always.

“So, who else is in it?” Greg asked. 

“Oh!” Hayden perked up. If she were a dog, Emma was sure her tail would be wagging. “There are THREE celebrities in it!”

Both Kevin’s and Greg’s eyes widened. 

“Really?” Kevin asked.

“Who?” Greg said at the same time.

“Dee Dee Allen is Margaret White,” Hayden said, then jumped when Greg slammed his hands onto the table, his mouth now hanging open.

“You’re performing with THE Dee Dee Allen?!” Greg yelled so loud that a few people looked over in confusion. He looked like some kind of bug with how wide his eyes were.

Emma snorted and nudged him. “You nerd.”  
“Not a nerd,” Greg said. “Just an appreciator of good acting.”

Emma laughed again, though she couldn’t blame him for looking so excited. Dee Dee Allen was practically royalty among musical theater. She had been Mrs. Potts in Beauty and The Beast, Eva Perón in Evita, Gladys in Swallow The Moon, Eleanor Roosevelt in Eleanor: The Musical, and dozens of others. Emma didn’t know why she was even bothering with a production that was essentially minuscule compared to the other ones she had been in.

“Wow,” Greg looked awed. “Dee Dee Allen as Margaret White? That’s gonna be epic!!”

“Epic,” Hayden snorted. “That’s definitely one way to put it.”

“Shut up!” Greg barked. “I’m excited!”

“Who are the other two?” Kevin asked his sister.

“Barry Glickman is Mr. Stephens, Reverend Bliss, and Reporter 2 and Angie Dickinson is Miss Gardener and Reporter 1.” Hayden answered.

“ANGIE DICKINSON?!” Greg shrieked like a jungle bird. Now people were REALLY starting to look over at them. 

“Yes, THE Angie Dickinson,” Hayden teased.

Angie Dickinson had been in the chorus for Chicago for twenty years before quitting, but was also in a few other shows here and there, while Barry Glickman had been in a bigger variety of performances. Emma hadn’t realized her cousin was such a big musical fanboy.

“Who’s Carrie?” Kevin asked.

Hayden shrugged. Emma mimicked her when Kevin and Greg looked over at her.

“Some chick named Guinevere… Guinevere something. I forgot.” Hayden said.

“Guinevere Thomas?” Emma guessed allowed. “It was a T wasn’t it?”

“Oh! Thompson!”

“Yeah!”

Greg didn’t explode like he did with the last three actors, which meant this Guinevere Thompson girl was an unknown no-name in the theater community. Instead, he tilted his head.

“Thompson? Is she related to Thomas Thompson?” Greg said.

“First of all,” Emma started. “What kind of name is Thomas Thompson?” Hayden snickered between her sentences. “And second, who is he?”

“He owns this really popular line of hotels.” Kevin told her. “You know Hotel Indigo? He made the company and first hotel. Our family stayed in one before. Super fancy place.”

“It was so shiny!” Hayden said helpfully. 

“The guy makes serious bank,” Kevin went on.

“Ah,” Emma nodded.

“I bet the girl’s daddy bribed Trent to let her in,” Hayden said. “You know how rich people are. It was probably unfair to the rest of us.”

“Hey, at least you got in,” Greg said. “That’s what matters.”

“Still.” Hayden huffed. “Eat the rich!” Then, a second later, she leaned forward avidly, staring into Emma’s eyes. “Anyhow. Emma. Who was that lady you were talking to?”  
Greg and Kevin’s head snapped around to Emma, suddenly EXTREMELY invested in the conversation. Emma, on the other hand, was now very interested in picking the soggy label off of her green bottle. When she raised her eyes to the trio, she kept her expression calm and collected.

“What lady?” She said coolly.

Hayden rolled her eyes. “You KNOW!” She said. “The lady you started talking to the moment she walked into the green room! And then you also danced by her during the second day of auditions!”

“Ohhh,” Emma nodded, still playing dumb so her friends wouldn’t overreact. “Right. Yeah.” She shrugged. “I dunno. Some girl.”

Hayden slumped back into the booth with a groan. “You are SO ANNOYING!” She exclaimed. She shot back up and jabbed a finger at Emma. “You’ll see, Emma Nolan!” She smirked. “You two are about to fall for each other. Hard.”

Bold of her to assume Emma wasn’t already on her knees for Alyssa Greene.

* * *

It was rainy and dark the next morning. Emma entered the theater squelching and instantly had to zip up her jacket when the AC threatened to freeze her solid. She tried to keep herself from shivering, as she didn’t want to seem weak in front of Alyssa, which wasn’t that hard to do because a powerful warmth flooded through her and heated her very core when she stepped into a new green room and saw her co-star inside.

Alyssa was wearing an olive green blouse and jeans today. She had a black scarf wound around her neck, which she kept adjusting as she stood there, waiting. When she noticed Emma, her warm honey-colored eyes lit up and she smiled.

“Emma!” Alyssa said.

Hearing her name spoken by such a goddess of a woman felt like some kind of blessing from the heavens. Emma was sure Alyssa was an angel sent to brighten up her life--and she wasn’t even that religious!

Emma tried not to seem too excited as she walked over to Alyssa, but she swore she felt a slight hop in her step. Now she was the dog, her proverbial tail wagging at a million miles an hour. 

But she couldn’t help it! She had seen many pretty ladies in her time as a lesbian, but none of them were anything like Alyssa Greene. They couldn’t even compare to her. Emma felt a sort of connection to this woman, and not just because their characters were dating, which was another thing that made her heart beat so fast she thought it may leap right out of her chest. There was something else… 

Emma didn’t want to be cliche or cheesy, but she swore this was meant to be.

“Someone is excited to see me,” Emma said, stopping in front of her. She smirked, even though Alyssa’s eagerness made her want to blush like a lovesick puppy and turn into a puppy instead.

“Well, yeah,” Alyssa nudged her. “You’re my Tommy Ross now. I kinda have to be excited to see you or that would ruin the whole dynamic! Seriously, I hate when I hear about how actors actually hate each other behind the scenes. Kinda breaks the illusion that they’re lovers or best friends.”

Emma only half-heard what Alyssa was babbling about, as she was still caught up on “my Tommy Ross.”

_Her Tommy Ross._

She felt like Rudolph in that one scene where Clarice called him cute and he flew around the field in joy. If the power of flight was possible, she was sure she would be doing the same in that green room.

“You got that right,” Emma said, finally catching onto what Alyssa had been saying. “Like, did you know that the two leads in The Notebook hated each other?”

“Really?” Alyssa said. “Good thing I never watched that.”

Emma snorted. “Same. I just heard about it.”

“So, how’s your morning going?” Alyssa asked.

“Early,” Emma said, and Alyssa laughed into her scarf. It was a beautiful sound. Emma wanted to make her laugh all the time. “I guess I have to get used to waking up at the crack of dawn.”

“Seven isn’t _that_ early,” Alyssa said.

“Yeah, but I have to wake up at, like, six just to get ready!” Emma protested.

Alyssa laughed again. Emma’s heart fluttered like a kaleidoscope of rainbow butterflies. 

“It takes you that long to get ready?” Alyssa asked.

“I need at least twenty minutes to shake off the sleepiness and get out of bed,” Emma answered. “Then I never take a shower at night even though it’s easier, so I have to do THAT, too, which takes me forever because then I get relaxed in the hot water. Then I have to get dressed and do my hair and sometimes makeup and eat breakfast and--” She groaned. “It takes forever. I have horrible time management.”

“Looks like someone needs some coffee to get a jumpstart,” Alyssa said.

“Probably.” Emma laughed slightly.

Before either Emma or Alyssa could say anything else, a very attractive middle-aged woman came sauntering up to them. She was wearing a rather strange clash of a dark green long-sleeved shirt and some blue leopard print leggings, but she managed to pull it off somehow. Golden blonde hair fell around her face, brightly highlighting her mossy green eyes. She was staggeringly tall, so tall, in fact, that Emma had to crane her neck up slightly to simply meet her gaze.

Emma then realized she was looking at _the_ Angie Dickinson. She must not have noticed her before because she was too entranced with Alyssa, which said _a lot_ about her crush.

“Hello there,” Angie said, and Emma probably wasn’t the first to think about how smooth her voice was, almost like molten caramel. Despite the age difference, she couldn’t help how instantly attracted she was to this lady. Alyssa was still her main interest, though, of course. Not even the gazelle-legged, powerhouse of a woman that was Angie Dickinson could break the gayness she had for her co-star.

“I’m Angie Dickinson,” Angie went on. “But I’m sure you already knew that. Everyone seems to.” She rolled her eyes in a good-natured way, then smiled at Emma and Alyssa. “I’m just introducing myself to everyone in the cast. We _are_ basically family now. I want to be equal to everyone else here. Forget what I did before.”

“That’s very modest of you,” Alyssa said.

Angie’s smile twitched up a little more. “I try.” She said. “But enough about me. Who are you two beautiful young ladies? Is one of you my Carrie?”

Emma would _not_ mind being her Carrie at all. She was starting to wonder if she wanted Angie as a lover or a mother, which was a really odd predicament to be in. Did she have a mommy kink? She did have issues with her mom… 

Alyssa shook her head. “I’m Alyssa Greene. I’m playing Sue.” She nudged Emma.

Emma jumped slightly. “Oh! I’m Emma Nolan. And Tommy Ross.”

Angie’s eyebrows rose in interest. “I was wondering about that,” She said. “Having a woman as Tommy, I mean. Would he still be a boy or would be a girl in this and is a lesbian?” She noticed Emma and Alyssa’s matching expressions at that. “What? I’m with it! I’m not that old! I’ve been asked to say ‘gay rights’ _so_ many times. Not that I mind.”

“Oh, so you’re one of the cool celebrities,” Emma said without thinking.

Angie barked a laugh, which seemed a bit odd coming from someone as regal as her. A few people even turned their heads in reaction to it.

“Once again, I try,” Angie said after containing herself. “I have convinced Trent to change Miss Gardener’s high school prom date to a woman AND change the male pronouns in Unsuspecting Hearts to gender neutral pronouns. Who’s to say Carrie is straight?”

“Okay, it’s official,” Emma said. “You’re the coolest Gen X person I’ve ever met.”

Another laugh. Angie tipped her head back when she laughed. Emma felt a sort of pride in making the pretty lady do so. 

“I agree,” Alyssa nodded. “It’s nice to see celebrities act, like, human.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” Angie said. She then turned her head to the doorway, apparently having heard something. “And speaking of celebrities…”

A duo that was practically radiating wealth entered the green room.

The woman was Dee Dee Allen, wearing a black dress shirt with matching black dress pants and a grey ruffle-back blazer. She was quite literally dripping with gemstones, bearing a diamond necklace around her neck, golden hoop earrings in her ears, silver bracelets on her wrists, and at least four different rings on her fingers. She walked with power, nose raised haughtily, hawk-like features set, fully aware that she was richer and more talented than everyone in the room combined.

Her friend was Barry Glickman, slightly less flashy than she was, but still exuding great luxury. He was wearing a baby blue button-down shirt and black pants, both of which seemed to be made of the finest silk. There was a thick silver ring on his left ring finger, which he kept twisting back and forth, as if he were constantly checking if it were still there. He was very much less frightening than Dee Dee. In fact, he wasn’t frightening at all.

“Hello, young stars,” Dee Dee said, outstretching her arms to everyone inside. “Don’t worry, there is no need to bow while I am in your presence. I am one of you now! And I am going to make this performance dazzling.”

Barry nodded at her side.

“That is the exact opposite of modest,” Alyssa said to Emma and Angie, making them both laugh softly.

“They aren’t _that bad_ ,” Angie said. “We’re all friends. You get used to the narcissism after awhile.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Angie laughed. “Really.”

It wasn’t long before Trent entered. He was dressed in a maroon sweater and pants, the exact opposite of the three celebrities he was very clearly friends with. He came in with a bright expression and an even brighter smile.

“Hello, everyone!” He shouted. “I’m so happy to see you all here! Are you all ready to start this musical?”

Everyone in the room cheered, which made him beam even more.

“I’m glad to hear that!” He said. He rustled through the bag he was holding as he walked further inside, then pulled out a large mass of scripts. “Today we will be doing a simple read through of the musical, breaking down the scenes, and going over any questions and concerns that any of you may have. Tomorrow, the first stage of blocking will begin.”

He began passing out the scripts to everyone. The cover had **“CARRIE: The Musical”** in the middle, the letters shaky and smoldered, as if they had been burned. 

“There’s highlighters on the table,” Trent said, nodding to the tub of highlighters sitting on the large table in the middle of the room. “Highlight your lines as we go, please. I’ll be reading over the stage directions and--” He stopped and looked around. “Where is our Carrie?” He spun around in a circle. “Where is Guinevere?”

Everyone else looked around, but didn’t seem to know who he was talking about.

“Damn,” Nick snorted. “Our lead is a no-show on the first day. That’s definitely comforting.”

“Stop that,” Trent said to him. “She’ll be here soon.”

“Soon” was actually twelve minutes before the front door of the theater finally opened and then closed loudly in the distance. A few seconds later, someone entered, out of breath as if she had ran through the rain to get there. She was scrawny, pale, and awfully young. Much younger than the others. Shouldn’t she be in school?

“Sorry,” She said through panting breaths, dipping her head low to avoid eye contact.

The poor thing seemed incredibly nervous, and it only made it worse that she was soaked from head to toe, as it appeared she didn’t have an umbrella. 

Emma then recognized this girl as the quiet redhead from the auditions. But then she thought this was some kind of joke. The kid that trembled during the whole wait for her tryout and stumbled over her own feet during the dancing portion was their lead? She looked too scared to even say her lines! Though, when she thought more about it, Carrie _was_ supposed to be meek and shy. Maybe Trent did know what he was doing when he cast this obvious ball of useless unending anxiety as the main character.

“I’m really sorry,” The girl went on with her babbling before Trent could even get a word in about her tardiness. “I-I didn’t-- My ride-- I can’t drive so I--” She herself could barely speak without tripping over her own words. Emma was starting to doubt the casting decisions again.

“Guinevere.” Trent said, and there was surprising patience in his voice. Emma never took directors for the tolerant types. She had only heard stories about them throwing hissy fits over the smallest mistakes. “It’s okay. You’re here now, aren’t you?”

Guinevere shifted from side to side. “I-I guess,” She said. “I’m still sorry…”

“That’s alright,” Trent said, and Emma was now certain that he was the nicest and most understanding director in the whole world. “It’s okay. You’re human. We all make mistakes. I’m probably going to be late one day, too. Would you like to go dry off?”

Guinevere looked down at herself, at her dripping (and rather ugly) mustard yellow sweater and (even uglier) long scarlet skirt with small white flowers all over it, then looked back up and shook her head, which sent a scattering of droplets flying from her equally wet red hair.

“I-I’m okay,” She said, even though she was very clearly shivering. “I don’t wanna waste anymore time.”

“I’ll go get you a towel,” Trent said. “I’ll be back.” He walked out.

“I’m going to go introduce myself,” Angie said to Emma and Alyssa, then walked over to Guinevere. The girl looked even more dazzled than Emma had been to be in the presence of her.

“Wow,” Alyssa said at Emma’s side, and Emma turned her head to look at her.

“What?” Emma asked.

“That was the girl I was talking to,” Alyssa said. “On audition day. I can’t believe she made it in.”

Emma snorted lightly. “Wow, you must have been _so_ supportive.”

Alyssa shoved her playfully, and the contact with her sent tingles through Emma’s arm. They increased tenfold when Emma began thinking about how much they would probably touch in the musical, and she tried not to let herself go dizzy with her yearning gayness.

“That’s not what I meant,” Alyssa hissed. “I just didn’t take her for the lead role type. I bet she’s great, though.”

“I sure hope so,” Emma said. “We’re all counting on her to be good.”

Alyssa nudged her again, and the tingly feeling returned. “Now who’s being ‘supportive.’”

Emma snickered.

Trent soon entered again with a plain white towel. He handed it to Guinevere, who had been stuttering her way through a conversation with Angie, and she took it gratefully.

“Thank you,” Guinevere said. “Oh, and, umm, sir? May I go by Winnie? It’s my nickname. I use it more often. I just said Guinevere during the audition because it was more formal to use my real name.”

“Oh! Of course, of course,” Trent said. “Whatever you want. Here, take a script. Everyone, sit down! We’re going to begin now!”

“FINALLY!” Nick yelled, much louder than necessary, and Emma could already tell he was going to be one of _those_ men. 

Winnie winced at his shout, but said nothing. She merely dipped her head like a meek puppy while rubbing herself down with the towel, then wrapped it around herself as if it were a child's safety blanket.

Everyone sat down around the table, scripts and highlighters in hand. Emma sat next to Alyssa, of course, while Guinevere-- no, Winnie sat across from her with Angie beside her. Barry and Dee Dee sat at the head of the table as if they were the king and queen of the performance, and Trent sat at the other end.

“Okay, so this is just a basic read through of the script, as I said before,” Trent said. “Skip over the songs for now, but make sure to highlight and start memorizing those, too. I’ll be reading the stage directions, so don’t worry about those. You can stop whenever you want if you have any questions about something, and I’ll occasionally be stopping as well so we can break down a scene or add any notes. Got all that?”

Everyone nodded.

“Great!” Trent opened the script and cleared his throat. _“Cast Breakdown. Carrie White: A painfully shy outsider who, in spite of her best efforts to fit in, has been the victim of her classmates’ cruel jokes since childhood, as well as her mother’s strict, biblically-ordained control at home. She transforms from ugly duckling into graceful--and then vengeful--swan. Vocally, she must be capable of lyrical sweetness as well as fierce power.”_

Emma looked up from the script to take in their Carrie again. She was slowly starting to see what Trent saw in Winnie, which was actually pretty easy because Winnie was making it seem like she kinned Carrie White or something from her nervous expression and constant fidgeting in her seat. Though, this girl did NOT look like the type to have the vocal power for such a frightening role. Nor was she frightening at all. 

_“Margaret White: A woman of visceral extremes, she balances her fervent religious conviction with equally sincere true-believer spirituality and tender, maternal love for Carrie. Like Carrie, with whom she shares several duets, her voice must range from expressive and melodic to ferocious and frightening.”_

Now Dee Dee Allen as Margaret White was a match Emma could very easily believe. Even if she was only in the show because she was famous and friends with Trent, she still fit the character perfectly. She was definitely scary enough. Emma now felt a little bad for Winnie because of what their characters will have to do.

_“Sue Snell: A straight-A student who’s been popular her entire life, she’s remarkably level headed for her age. Her unthinking participation in a cruel act of bullying causes a crisis of conscience that leads her on a journey to try and make things right. Vocally, she has a pop ballad voice that delivers sweet sincerity and strength.”_

Emma glanced at Alyssa. She would be amazing for any role in her opinion.

_“Tommy Ross: Popular star athlete, valedictorian, and all around stand-out, he’s the boy that all the girls want to be with, and all the boys want to be. Yet he also has unexpected, quirky sensitivity and is just starting to mine his personal life and feelings--a budding poet. His voice should have an effortless pop quality.”_

Emma couldn’t help but puff her chest out in pride.

_“Chris Hargensen: Rich, spoiled-rotten, and wickedly funny, Chris is a popular beauty whose arrogant self-assurance makes her believe that the rules don’t apply to her. Loaded with sexual dynamite, she has serious daddy and anger-management issues. Her voice is pop-rock percussive and powerful.”_

Kaylee Klein was playing Chris, a brunette bombshell of a young woman with eyes like pieces of onyx. She looked like the type to pick on people below her, but also looked like she would be surprisingly nice and funny. When Emma made eye contact with her, she smiled at her, and Emma smiled back.

_“Billy Nolan: Now in his sixth year in high school, Billy’s a sexy, stupid-like-a-fox bad boy whose wise mouth troublemaking has led him to spend more time in detention than in class. All these qualities make it easy for his girlfriend, Chris, to manipulate him to do her bidding. His voice is that of a wailing rocker.”_

Nick Boomer, the smart ass who was speaking up earlier, was the well-cast Billy for the performance. His brown hair was swept back in a fuckboy style that made Emma irritated in a way she couldn’t explain. When _they_ made eye contact, he winked one of his amber eyes at her, making her wrinkle her nose in distaste.

_“Miss Gardener: Mid-30s, this girls’ P.E. teacher can be a strict disciplinarian if necessary, but when Carrie arouses her maternal instinct, she surprises herself by also revealing a protective, “fairy godmother” side. Her voice is warm and strong, just like the woman.”_

Looking at Angie, Emma wished she was _her_ maternal fairy godmother.

_“Mr. Stephens: Late-30s, this well-intentioned English teacher and guidance counselor struggles to help his students realize their potential. A dedicated educator, he’s stretched thin in his duties, woefully underpaid, and a bit overwhelmed as to how to handle the Billy Nolans of the classrooms combat zone.”_

It was definitely going to be funny to see how rich and famous Barry Glickman was going to play a stressed and overworked teacher.

_“Norma: Bitchy, gossipy, and a shameless suck-up to authority, Norma is second-in-command to Chris’ queen bee.”_

Linda raised her chin slightly when Trent read out the description of her character. She looked even more like a bitch than Kaylee did.

_“Frieda: Sue’s brainy pal, she’s an easy-going, get-along follower and a tireless extracurricular committee volunteer.”_

Emma still wasn’t sure how loud-mouth, blunt-as-nails Hayden got the role of sweet, intelligent Frieda, but she was just excited to work with her friend.

_“Helen: Giggly and easily shocked, her immaturity and need to belong make her the perfect example of the herd mentality.”_

Emma raised an eyebrow at Natalie, but Natalie didn’t look up from her script. She wondered if Natalie would have been a role for Frieda. Hayden probably would have been happy to switch characters.

_“George: Tommy’s jock wingman since childhood, George idolizes him. Perhaps a little too much…”_

Emma exchanged a wary look with Kyle.

_“Stokes: A bit of a nerd, he’s happy to be included as one of Tommy’s posse.”_

Marcus definitely looked the part, with his ruffled chestnut hair and glasses.

_“Freddy: The wise-cracking class clown and official yearbook photographer, he can’t believe any girl would ever give him the time of day.”_

Emma looked at Noah, and could see what Trent saw in him for the part. He seemed like a flirt to her.

“Alright,” Trent skimmed through a few pages, then opened his script out widely in front of him. “Aha! Here!” He cleared his throat again, then began, _“Prologue: Interrogation Space. We see what appears to be the burnt-out remains of a high school gymnasium. The site of some terrible disaster, it emanates palpable dread. It’s both realistic and abstract- a landscape of truth and memory._

_A faint, ghostly overture of sounds grows louder and more distinct: a school bell, the shriek of a whistle, cries and screams, 911 calls, fire sirens, etc. They culminate in a booming explosion. BLACKOUT!_

_WHOOSH! A cone of harsh white light suddenly illuminates a lone figure in a chair, causing her to flinch and cry out as if waking from a nightmare. It’s Sue Snell, haunted witness and tour guide to our story. Figures from Sue’s memory are silhouetted behind her. A male voice, startling her, demands…”_

“ _Name_ , please. State your full name.”

* * *

The read through went amazingly well, at least in Emma’s opinions. It was way more entertaining and fun than she had been expecting, filled with laughing at the jokes, some confusion, and several questions over the content of the play.

Alyssa’s acting was as good as Emma had been expecting, not that she had any doubts about her abilities. She spoke all the lines smoothly and fluidly, only stammering a few times. Even though this was only a read through, she still put a good amount of emotion into going over her parts for the first time.

Emma could barely wait to hear her give it her all. And sing. She was _really_ excited for her to sing.

Also when she got to tell Alyssa “I love you” as Tommy- WOW, did her temperature go up. 

One thing that Emma picked up on was Winnie’s shyness about calling Dee Dee “Mama”, which she honestly couldn’t blame her for. It was probably a little embarrassing to call a famous actress such a thing, especially a rather scary actress at that. 

Another thing about Winnie that Emma noticed was that she seemed absolutely terrified about her role, especially after asking a few questions.

“Sir?” Winnie said meekly while raising her hand after the period scene had ended, partially cutting Kaylee’s next line off. “I’m sorry, but I just had a question. How are we gonna do this part? I mean, I can’t exactly get naked onstage, so I was just wondering…”  
“Oh, you will be!” Trent said nonchalantly. “With a towel on, though. So you’ll be holding that up while doing your lines.”

Winnie paled. “Oh.” She squeaked.

By the end of the rehearsal, Emma was even more excited for the show than she was before. And to make it even better, Alyssa stopped her on the way out.

“What’s your coffee order?”

Emma blinked at her. “What?”

“What kind of coffee do you like?” Alyssa asked again. 

“You’re going to buy me coffee?” 

Alyssa grinned. “I suggested that you got a jumpstart in the morning, didn’t I?”


	3. In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG CHAPTER LONG CHAPTER LONG CHAPTER LONG CHAPTER
> 
> i got a little carried away lol

** Winnie **

Winnie’s parents had been unfazed when she told them about the turnouts of the musical. The most she got out of them was a shared glance, a dry “hmm” from her father, and an uncaring, “That’s great, Guinevere” from her mother.

But still. Winnie was proud of herself!

And yet… 

God.

She couldn’t even be happy for herself if her parents didn’t feel the same way. Whether they knew it or not, their lack of positive reaction always smothered any amount of pride or joy she felt about anything. It had been that way for years, and yet she hadn’t gotten used to it.

Ever since she was old enough to know what validation was, Winnie was constantly clawing for it from her parents. Whether that may have been her showing them a painting she made in elementary school or a 100 she got on a test or something impressive she did in school, it was not enough. No matter what she did, it was never enough.

And yet, she tried.

She learned about the word “people-pleaser” when she was in seventh grade. It was said in her English class, over a character in a book that she couldn’t remember the name of, but she knew she was the exact definition of the word before she even knew what the actual definition was. It sparked something in her brain that she attached herself to mere moments after hearing it for the first time. Even now, four years later, she had yet to separate herself from it.

She just couldn’t help it! It wasn’t her fault her mom cheated on her dad who’s not really her dad to have her! It wasn’t her fault that she was born! She certainly never asked to be! And yet everyone, even the whole world, seemed to hate her over something she had no control over. Nobody blamed her mother for the infidelity or her father for forgiving her like an idiot or her real father for knocking up a married woman. Everyone just blamed her, Guinevere Thompson, the aftermath of adult stupidity.

Winnie started going by “Winnie” after she found a photograph of her father. She had found it hidden behind a hanging photo of her parents and her younger siblings (never her, though) when she accidentally broke the frame after hitting the wall. She was going into eighth grade from seventh grade and her tween self was itching for mischief, so she hid the photo from her parents, despite all the questions she wanted to ask her mother. 

It had been a complete accident that Mary found out she had it, when she saw it in her room after she forgot to put it away.

For a long time, Mary didn’t speak after she found the photo. She just gripped it tightly and stared at it with wide, bulging eyes.

The photo seemed to be one that would be taken as a headshot for a job, but Winnie guessed her birth father had given it to Mary so she could remember him. In it, a man, quite a bit younger than her mother had been at the time, was smiling widely at the camera with genuine happiness. He had tanned skin, chestnut hair, and was wearing a formal suit for whatever the occasion was. At first, Winnie didn’t even think this _was_ her father, but then she noticed his dazzling silvery-grey eyes and realized how much they looked like her own. Sometimes she wondered if her mother hated her so much because she had his eyes.

On the back of the photo, written in black sharpie and fancy cursive, was a note, **_“In case that excuse for a husband can’t give you what you need, you can always look to me. I can’t wait to see you again, doll_ ** _♡_ **_-Your love, Henry”_ **

“ _Where_ did you find this?” 

Winnie remembered flinching at the edge in her mother’s voice. Trembling, she stuttered, “I-I broke a picture frame a little while ago. You didn’t notice, so I picked up the broken glass so that we wouldn’t get hurt. I found it behind one of the family pictures.”

Mary took several deep breaths that did little to calm her. Winnie swallowed thickly.

“M-maybe it could help us look for him?” She said timidly.

Turning abruptly, Mary stormed out the bedroom and down the stairs. Winnie had made the mistake of running after her, crying, “Wait! Mother!”

Mary strode into the lounge and began roughly throwing firewood into the fancy fireplace. Winnie skidded to a stop behind her, her eyes wide.

“Mother!” She shouted. “Stop! We have to find Daddy!”

But Mary had not stopped. She just kept tossing in wood until the fireplace was full, then moved to dousing the logs with an alarming amount of lighter fluid. Winnie lunged forward and grabbed her arm as she lit a match and flicked it in. The flames roared to life instantly, illuminating the cold look in Mary’s golden eyes.

“No.” Her mother had hissed, and then threw the photo into the fire.

“NO!!!” Winnie screeched.

She had thrown herself at the fireplace, dropping to her knees and shoving her hands into the burning logs. Flames licked at her skin and she howled in pain, but didn’t pull back until she grabbed the smoldering remains of the photograph. It disintegrated in her fingers and she wailed in anguish right before Mary had grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her backwards.

“What are you doing?!” Mary cried. Her eyes were even wider, and Winnie saw that she wasn’t worried, but enraged. That was the first time she truly realized her mother didn’t care about her. 

The smell of burned flesh hung heavily in the air.

“That was going to help us find my dad!” Winnie had yelled, tears running down her cheeks. Her hands hurt so badly. Pink and scarlet crisscrossed together over her charred skin. “We were gonna find him and he was gonna come back for me!!”

“No he wasn’t, Guinevere!”

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING KEEPING HIM AWAY!”

In an instant, the scalding hot blood in Winnie’s veins turned to ice-water. She started to comprehend the implication of Mary’s words, and the tears came out from her eyes faster and faster. She wilted like a daffodil, crossing her burnt hands in front of her chest and grabbing her arms, squeezing them tightly as she bowed her head and doubled over on her knees. The crown of her skull cracked against the hardwood, sprawling her hair like a waterfall of blood all over the floor. 

“No… No… No…” She wept again and again.

“He doesn’t want you, Guinevere,” Mary scoffed. “He didn’t even fight for you. He could care less about your existence, as could I, but at least I’m slaving myself over keeping you alive. But you don’t even appreciate that, do you?”

Winnie looked up at her, tears glistening in her eyes. Her mother’s own were narrowed with distaste and hate.

Mary never looked at her with anything but disgust, even now.

Winnie remembered soothing the burns on her hands with cold water and some cream she found in the medicine cabinet. She didn’t have any friends at school, so nobody asked what was wrong with her hands when she came in with them wrapped in bandages, though they did stare curiously. Holding anything was agony, but she pushed through it anyway, hoping that maybe _that_ would get the attention of her parents. Surely doing all her schoolwork with damaged hands had to mean something! 

It didn’t.

It never did.

They never looked her way.

Winnie didn’t believe Mary when she said her birth father didn’t want her. She didn’t even believe her when she said _she_ didn’t want her. So, she changed her name, thinking maybe a new title would mean there would be a new her, one that her birth father would love.

Like everything, she didn’t get what she wanted.

Nobody ever showed interest in her.

Except now, of course. Because Carrie was going to be the turning point in her miserable life.

She didn’t think she could go on anymore if it didn’t work out.

Winnie, in a weird sort of way, felt a sort of connection to Carrie White. In some ways, their lives were similar. The movies and book became a go-to comfort device for her. Sometimes, when she would lay awake at night, she wondered what it would be like to have psychic powers and to exact them on her hateful family and everyone else who ever used her for the riches she inherited. 

So when she heard about the tryouts for Carrie: The Musical, she instantly jumped on the opportunity to be in the spotlight. Not that she was expecting to actually get in, of course. She had learned to expect very little positive results for anything at this point. It made it hurt less.

That being said, when she walked out to the theater late that Sunday and saw her name at the top of the list, she nearly fainted right then and there.

Her name. On the list. In the play.

Her name. Her. Guinevere Thompson. As Carrie White. In the play.

Her.

_Me!_

She remembered standing in front of the doors for what felt like hours. She didn’t snap out of her trance until someone sighed next to her, and she shifted her gaze over to a woman she vaguely remembered seeing at the auditions.

“You didn’t get in either, huh?” The woman said, sounding upset.

At first, Winnie had no idea what she was talking about, and then she felt the stinging in her eyes. She had started crying at some point.

All Winnie was able to respond with was a strangled, “Carrie…” as she craned her head back around to the script.

The woman gave her a thoroughly weirded out look, then trudged away.

Winnie gave it a few more minutes before she began celebrating, hopping and jumping and crying in pure joy.

She was going to be in a musical! Thank god for it, too, because the only reason why her parents let her was because she spun it in a way that made it sound like it was one of the paying gigs and she could get them more money. Her parents, being the greedy dragons they were, jumped on the chance to get even more riches and agreed. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean they were going to be proud of her when she did get in.

But they would! Soon! She was still starting out, so she just had to be patient and wait until she’s really into the show, and then they’ll notice how great and amazing and wonderful she was!

They had to.

Unfortunately, being in a musical as the maid lead was a lot harder than Winnie had expected. She had a lot more lines than she thought she would have (which was stupid given that she was, again, _the lead_ ) and the songs she would have to sing made her throat hurt just listening to them. The Destruction alone made her want to quit right then and there, but then she remembered what the show would do for her and she sucked her uneasiness up.

However, it wasn’t just the lines and songs she had to worry about. There were also her co-stars.

They all terrified her.

Essentially, Dee Dee Allen terrified her, Alyssa Greene made her heart feel weird in a way she couldn’t explain, Emma Nolan reminded her of some kind of rodent that would bite her and give her rabies and then laugh at her while she foamed at the mouth, Kaylee Klein intimidated her, Nick Boomer looked like he would call her slurs, Angie Dickinson made her fear getting kicked if she messed up even once, Barry Glickman looked like he would laugh at her for any reason, Hayden Shield looked like she would cyberbully her, Linda Speelman would probably spread rumors about her, Natalie Saunders always seemed to be glancing at her, Kyle Lim made her worry she would make jokes about her, Marcus Brown confused her, Noah Smithson whispered a lot, and she didn’t even _know_ what was up with the ensemble members, but sometimes they would shriek in laughter out of nowhere over the things they talked to each other about in hushed voices and that made her jump like a damn fainting goat and worry they were laughing about her.

To put it simply: the entire cast triggered her fight or flight instinct. But instead of it being fight or flight, it was just flight or flight because she was a damn coward and only ever got scared.

Winnie knew how unhealthy it was to live her life in fear, but she couldn’t help it. Her anxiety was a powerful, overbearing thing. It hounded her constantly, all the time, never stopping no matter what she did to stop it, catching her by the throat with its slobbered jaws and holding on tight. At this point, Winnie was sure she had done everything in the book to try and quell her anxiety. 

Breathing exercises? Useless. They don’t actually work. It’s just a movie thing that they actually do something. 

Exercising, walking, yoga? Ineffective. That just made her tired, and that would then make her even more anxious because she would become afraid that she was too tired to work or function.

Aromatherapy? Even more useless. Why would breathing in flowery smells make her feel better?

Connecting with nature? She got attacked by a magpie.

Being patient? Didn’t work at all.

Paying attention to good things? Were there even any good things in her life at this point?

Talking to friends? She didn’t have friends.

Therapy? Ha! Like her parents would actually pay for such a thing for her.

Medications? See above.

WikiHow How To Deal With Anxiety (with pictures)? Failed her.

Nothing worked. Nothing _ever_ worked. So, Winnie just dealt with her anxiety, as she dealt with everything in her life.

Still. The rest of the cast made her extremely nervous, and after a week of being in the show, she realized it was mainly because she was afraid of disappointing and failing them. It had yet to happen, but she still worried. The thought that she would one day mess up spectacularly and lose everything she was fighting for lurked in the back of her head like a thick, black fog.

And on top of all of that, Winnie had to also tackle her schoolwork. She had been able to also convince her parents to let her do online school, so she had to uphold her part of the deal and keep her grades up to perfection. This was getting rather difficult when she was at the theater for most of the day and then had to continue to practice even while she was at home, so she usually ended up working late into the night to finish her schoolwork before she even got to sleep. Sometimes she didn’t sleep at all.

Like right now.

Winnie rubbed her tired eyes. The glare of her laptop’s screen felt like burning daggers carving out her sockets. The skin around them were raw from her constant touching. She sighed.

7:36. Rehearsals weren’t at the crack of dawn anymore, but she still worried about being late, as she did with everything. She better get up and start getting ready now before she loses even more time.

After submitting her assignment on the book she was reading for Pre-AP English II (it was 1984, which she HATED, by the way), she dragged herself out of her desk chair, feeling achy all over, and got some fresh clothes. Trent told them that they needed to start wearing looser, more comfortable clothes for practice, so she threw on some plain grey sweatpants, a t-shirt with bumblebees on it, and sneakers after she took a shower. 

The downstairs of her family’s mansion was as noisy as usual. Annabelle and Leonard were sitting in front of the giant flat screen TV, watching some obnoxiously loud children’s cartoon, while Abigail told Mary about the dream she had in a shrill, pig-squealing voice. Molly was on the floor playing with the family’s cliche crusty white dog, Empress, and William was in his booster seat, bouncing up and down while the maid, Maggie, was feeding him. Maggie was the only one who addressed Winnie when she came down. She was always the only one.

“Good morning, Winnie,” Maggie said kindly. She was also the only one in the house who called her by her preferred name instead of her real one, even if it did agitate her parents. Winnie liked to think that was one of the reasons why she did so.

“Good morning, Maggie,” Winnie said back. She spotted her mother in the kitchen, brewing a cup of black coffee. She walked over, wanting to get a glass herself. “Good morning, Mother.”

Mary glanced at her with little interest. “Hmm.” She merely said.

“Hey!” Abigail barked loudly from one of the bar stools. “I was talking! Don’t interrupt me!”

Winnie ducked her head. Even though Abigail was four years younger than her, she still couldn’t help but bend to her little sister. Abigail truly was the princess in the family, and she was just a lowly peasant.

“Sorry,” Winnie said.

Abigail smirked at her obedience. “Thank you!” She said haughtily, then jumped back into the description of a crab with sparkly rainbow wings in the dream she had. Winnie wasn’t sure how Mary was so interested in something so boring and stupid.

She wished she would look at her like that.

Once Mary got her cup of coffee, Winnie poured one for herself. It was awfully bitter and ashy, but it was her version of alcohol. She was addicted to its disgusting taste and the rush it gave her. Caffeine was probably the only reason she had been able to keep up with everything so far.

Abigail’s story soon died away, and Winnie saw an opportunity to speak. Maybe this time would be different.

“Mother,” Winnie turned to Mary. “Did I tell you about what we’re doing at the theater?”

Mary raised one eyebrow at her, humoring her. “What?” She said dryly.

“We’re starting our blocking,” Winnie told her. “I mean, we’ve started blocking since last Tuesday after the read through, but we’re REALLY starting it now! We finished all our main notes and are gonna start acting them out! Isn’t that cool?”

“Hmm,” Mary hummed, clearly uninterested, but Winnie pretended she didn’t notice. She was always being blind to the signs put up for her, never letting them deter her.

“Why are you dressed like you’re homeless?” Abigail piped up, eyeing Winnie up and down as if she were a worm.

“We need to wear comfortable clothes we can move in,” Winnie said. “And this isn’t what homeless people dress like. I look fine.”

Abigail snorted. “Are you sure about that?”

Now Winnie was starting to get annoyed. “Yes. I am sure.”

“Guinevere.” Mary said sharply, and Winnie immediately snapped her mouth shut. “Stop talking back.”

Winnie swallowed her resent. “Yes, Mother,” She mumbled.

She finished her coffee and cleaned the cup in the sink. It was now 8:01. Practice started at 9:00. She quickly gathered her messenger bag, which had a pencil case with pencils and pens, an extra charger, a notebook, the script, and a small bottle of Ibuprofen in it, and hurried out the door. By the time she was down the street to get to the subway station, she realized she had forgotten her water bottle, but didn’t bother turning around to get it. She probably wouldn’t need anything to drink.

The subway was as crowded as ever, but Winnie found it weirdly consoling. She had been riding the subway since she was eleven, when her parents didn’t feel like driving her to school anymore. Surprisingly, her anxiety slightly diminished while down in the underground metro station, even though there were so many people around to see her fail spectacularly. Perhaps it was because nothing fazed New Yorkers anymore or that everyone was too absorbed in their own business to care about anyone else, especially in the morning when there was always a rush. There was also something strangely comforting about being packed into a train car with dozens of other people. She liked being around others, even in such close quarters. 

Winnie hung onto the handrail as the subway rocked its way down the tracks. There was a man furiously tapping on his tablet next to her, sweat beaded on his brow. She glanced over and briefly saw something about a business deal projected on the screen, which had its brightness turned all the way up. The battery was already on 48%. She looked away before she could be caught.

“In” was playing from her earbuds, muffling the sound of the clattering subway wheels, metal scraping against metal on the track, and people talking amongst each other, or with themselves in some cases because there was a man against the wall that was having a very loud conversation on his phone. She had been listening to the _Carrie_ soundtrack nonstop ever since she got in, and was sure she was going to be sick of hearing all the songs by the end of the production.

The entire soundtrack was incredible, but there was something about “In” that hooked her. She hadn’t listened to too-too many musicals, but none of their opening numbers were as good as this one. All the harmonies were amazing and everyone was so in sync with each other, especially in the performed versions she had looked up. It was like an embodiment of anxiety in a way, with all its overlapping voices and nervous thoughts about school. And there was something so chilling about the way the kids sang about how they would rather die than be unpopular, but in the end, they died because of what they _did_ to become popular.

Poetic cinema. Even though this was theater, not cinema, but still. It was stunning.

And she was really, really worried she was going to put the whole thing to shame.

She didn’t sing very often, not since her younger siblings recorded her singing in the shower and played it to the whole family during a Christmas party at her grandparent’s house and everyone laughed at her. Now she would only sing when she was completely alone, and even then she never gave it her all. She still had no idea how she was going to put all her power and effort into a song when she was too scared to even sing in front of people.

Why did she try out for this musical again? Oh, yeah! She was an attention whore.

Upon exiting the train car, Winnie was instantly met with the chill of the outside. She shivered, regretting her decision to not bring a jacket with her. In her head, she knew she would have had time to grab one and even get her water bottle, but she still didn’t trust herself to get to the station before the subway took off, and having to wait for the next one would only increase the chance of her being late. She had yet to get over her tardiness on the _first day_ of rehearsals.

Winnie walked up the staircase to the road, which was already packed with cars and people. It was even colder up there, out of the body heat-insulated underground metro station, and she rubbed her arms as she went along to try and smooth out the goosebumps rising along her skin. The _Carrie_ soundtrack continued to play as she made her way to the theater.

She arrived at 8:42. Mostly everyone was already inside the green room they were using to rehearse. Before she walked in, she could faintly hear the whirring of tools from the tech workshop area in the theater.

She wondered if tech would have been easier than being in the actual production. Surely it would be, as the techies didn’t have to learn hundreds of lines or memorize complicated dances or make sure their voice didn’t crack horribly in the middle of a song. They didn’t have to fear for their life in front of a crowd of people who paid for a performance, not to see them screw up.

Not to undermine the things tech did. She could never possibly work spotlights or sound, paying close attention at all times to make sure the cues were exactly as they should be, never looking away no matter what. One daydream could cost a whole scene if the lights didn’t go down when they were supposed to and the actors onstage were left in brightness, not knowing what to do without their lighting cue. Even things like costume designing and set building and music production and special effects couldn’t be taken for granted. What if the costumes fell apart at the seams because they weren’t sewn correctly and left the actors butt naked in front of hundreds of prying eyes? What if they didn’t hammer in a nail far enough and the entire structure used for the show came crashing down mid-song? What if the music simply didn’t come on and ruined the whole flow? What if the special effects malfunctioned and someone got hurt because of it?

But maybe it wasn’t that hard. Maybe she was thinking too far into it. She was just glad she wasn’t in tech to know for sure.

Upon walking into the green room, the first thing Winnie noticed was Emma lying on the floor and Alyssa sitting beside her, rubbing her back. She furrowed her eyebrows.

“What’s wrong with her?” She asked, hoping she wasn’t accidentally coming off as judgey.

“My fucking COOCHIE,” Emma yelled.

“She’s on her period,” Alyssa translated.

“Could you _be_ any more vulgar?” Dee Dee commented from where she was sitting next to Barry.

“Yes,” Emma said. “Very much so.” She then groaned loudly, snaking her hands around her stomach. “FUCKKKKKK. When I woke up this morning, o swear to god I could fucking FEEL the blood SITTING at the opening of my vagina, just WAITING for me to stand up so it could ruin my shorts.”

“Oh my god,” Dee Dee muttered.

“You are getting too comfortable here,” Kaylee said.

“And it’s only been a week,” Barry pointed out.

“Ride the blood wave!” Hayden yelled.

“Sorry about her,” Alyssa said to everyone. Then, to Emma, her voice nurturing, “Are you going to be okay? Trent will understand if you need to sit out or go home.”

Emma shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to miss anything. Something interesting will DEFINITELY happen when I’m not here and then I’ll be mad.” She said. She laughed slightly. “Wait! We’re doing _Carrie_ and I’m on my period! It’s like it’s meant to be!”

“Or just something that happens to all women,” Dee Dee said.

“No, it’s destiny.” Emma said, then groaned again. “Owww. Very, VERY painful destiny.”

Alyssa laughed and rubbed Emma’s lower back. She was always rather affectionate and soft towards Emma, so much so that, at first, Winnie thought that they had been friends for years, but then Emma mentioned something about them meeting at auditions. She didn’t know how two people could get so close to each other over the span of one and a half weeks, but here they were, acting just like their characters would. 

Wait, maybe that explained it… 

Emma raised her head from where she had been smothering it against the tile floor and squinted at Winnie. “You should be taking notes. I am giving a VERY good performance right now. Maybe I should be Carrie!”

Winnie felt a sudden rush of defensiveness sprint through her when Emma said that. Despite how nervous she was about being the lead, someone would have to pry it out of her cold, dead fingers to take it from her. _She_ was Carrie White, not Emma, not her understudy, not anybody else. _Her._ And she would fight like a wild dog to make sure it stayed that way.

But she couldn’t get herself to bark or growl like a dog in response to Emma’s comment. Instead, she forced a laugh and said, “In your dreams.”

“Oooo, sassy!” Emma tittered lightly, then dropped her head back down to the floor. She clenched her jaw tightly. “Ow! Ow! Ow! Fucking karma!”

Now Winnie actually laughed. Alyssa, on the other hand, looked incredibly worried.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alyssa asked, setting a hand on Emma’s waist, which made Winnie quirk an eyebrow. Was the touching really necessary? “I can tell Trent that you aren’t well if you don’t want to, but I doubt he’ll get mad. He cried during the read through and he was just reading the stage directions.”

Winnie remembered that. A lot of people had cried or at least teared up (her included), but Trent was practically bawling as he had choked out, _“Gently, she lays Carrie down and crosses her arms across her lifeless body.”_ He defended himself by saying he was just happy that they were actually getting to put on the show, but everyone saw through it.

Emma laughed. “Haha. Old man tears.” 

Alyssa nudged her gently at that. “He isn’t that old.”

Emma shrugged. “Older than me.”

“I guess that means Dee Dee, Angie, and I are fucking ancient then,” Barry commented.

Emma snorted, then looked back up at Alyssa’s expectant expression. “But I’m fine, I promise! I was able to walk here, wasn’t I? I’m just resting right now. The Ibuprofen will kick in soon, it just always takes its sweet ass time.”

Alyssa looked at her closely. “Alright…” She said slowly. “But if you get worse, you _will_ sit out until you feel better. And if you don’t, I’ll get tape from the techies and tape you to the wall.”

Emma laughed. “Okay! Okay! I understand!”

Alyssa nodded. “Good.”

Winnie wondered what it was like to have someone that cared about her so much that they threatened to tape her to the wall.

“Hello, everyone!” Trent said, entering. “How are you all this chilly morning?”

“In pain!” Emma yelled.

“I was looking for ‘good’ or one of its synonyms, but I’ll take it!” Trent reacted, matching her energy. “Alright, are we all ready to begin?”

Everyone nodded.

To start their rehearsals, they did their usual stretches and vocal exercises to warm up. Once they finished, they all cleared the floor and sifted through their scripts for a starting point in the actual practice.

“Alright,” Trent said while skimming through the pages. “Okay, we’re going to be starting from the top with all of the blocking and notes we’ve made and see how they work. We’ll be skipping over the songs for now, but don’t worry, we’ll get to them soon. Still, memorize them! Now, Alyssa, center stage! Or, err, center green room!”

Alyssa stood at the center of the green room. She looked so calm, yet confident at the same time. The idea of performing in front of people didn’t shake her at all.

Trent nodded his head in approval at how quickly she got into place. “I’m going to read the major stage directions for now, so… _Prologue: Interrogation Space. We see what appears to be the burnt-out remains of a high school gymnasium. The site of some terrible disaster, it emanates palpable dread. It’s both realistic and abstract- a landscape of truth and memory._

_A faint, ghostly overture of sounds grows louder and more distinct: a school bell, the shriek of a whistle, cries and screams, 911 calls, fire sirens, etc. They culminate in a booming explosion. BLACKOUT!_

_WHOOSH! A cone of harsh white light suddenly illuminates a lone figure in a chair, causing her to flinch and cry out as if waking from a nightmare. It’s Sue Snell, haunted witness and tour guide to our story. Figures from Sue’s memory are silhouetted behind her. A male voice, startling her, demands…”_

“ _Name_ , please.” Barry demanded from where he was standing off to the side. “State your full name.”

In an instant, Alyssa’s placid, self-assured expression morphed into one of distress and unease. She raised a hand to her face, squinted, and turned her head away as if there were a bright light glaring into her eyes. Trent made a noise of approval at this. 

“You already know my name,” Alyssa said, and even her voice had shifted to a meeker, more docile version of its original tone. Winnie didn’t know how she did it so quickly and so naturally. “It’s Sue- Susan Snell.”

“And you were born in the town of…?” Barry went on.

“Chamberlain, Maine. I was born and raised there.” Alyssa said, head still bent away. 

“When did you first meet Carrie White?” Angie asked.

Alyssa fumbled for a moment, but Winnie knew it wasn’t because she couldn’t remember her line. “In elementary school? We were in the same grade. I don’t think I’d said a hundred words to her before this all began.” She lowered her hand slightly and looked up as if she were staring straight into the sun. “Could you turn that down, please? I can’t see.”

“Tell us about the night of May 28th- about the occurrences that led up to the alleged event.” Barry said, his character presumably ignoring her request from the way Alyssa didn’t move her hand. However, his words seemed to stir something in her, as she slowly lowered her arm to stare up in disbelief. 

“‘ _Alleged_ event?’” Alyssa said, sounding slightly repulsed. “Why do you keep asking the same thing over and over again?” She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “You want to catch me in a lie, is that it?”

“We need the truth.” Barry said.

“I’ve already told you what I know!” Alyssa said, sounding exasperated, then extremely tired. “How many times do we have to go through this?”

“Until it makes sense.” Barry said.

“Until we understand.” Angie said, slightly gentler. 

“What you _need_ to _understand_ is that we were just kids…” Alyssa shook her head. “Kids trying to do our best. We were _kids_.”

“Good!” Trent broke into the scene. “Very good! Alyssa, you were a natural with pantomiming that a light was in your eyes. I loved it.”

The confidence was back, and Alyssa smiled widely. “Thank you, Trent.”

“Okay, next! The shower scene!” Trent announced. “Alyssa, Kaylee, Linda, Natalie, Hayden, and my girl ensemble members, please get center. My non-binary ensemble members can sit this scene out if you aren’t comfortable with your character being in a girl’s locker room, I totally understand. Winnie, don’t get on just yet, but be ready. Angie, standby.”

Everyone did as they were told. Winnie could feel herself start to tremble slightly.

“Ladies,” Trent looked at the actresses at the center of the room. “Before Winnie enters, you will all be acting like basic teenagers in a locker room. Improv this. Talk, make jokes, mess around with each other, just fill the space. Winnie won’t be exiting ‘In’ until one of the final few lines, so she’s going to need some time to take her clothes off, put the towel on, and get the blood. We’ll be practicing with those costumes once we have everything down.”

They all nodded. 

“After Winnie enters, I want to see how you all make this scene play out. Be creative. Really show how cruel the girls are, not just with their words, but with their actions, too.”

Hayden raised her hand.

“Yes, Hayden?” Trent looked at her.

“Is there anything we can throw at her?” Hayden asked.

“At Winnie?”

“Yes.”

Winnie snapped her head to Hayden, almost feeling betrayed.

“Hmm,” Trent looked around the room. He spotted the tub of highlighters. “Winnie, are you okay with having highlighters thrown at you?”

She really, really wasn’t because highlighters weren’t soft like the actual tampons and pads would be and were probably going to hurt when they hit her, but she didn’t want to disappoint anyone, so she nodded.

“Sure,” Winnie said. She glanced uneasily at the actresses at the center of the green room. “Just please be gentle.”

“No promises,” Hayden winked at her, which wasn’t very comforting. Nor was Linda’s snickering and Kaylee’s slight smirk. 

“Great!” Trent looked way too eager as he retrieved the highlighters and set them nearby for the actresses to grab. “Okay, now, ladies? _Scene 1: Chamberlain High School._ Begin! Show me some improv!”

“I swear to God, Miss G is going to owe me new legs by the end of the year,” Natalie jumped right in, starting the scene smoothly. Winnie was surprised. She was expecting one of them to come out swinging with something completely absurd like needing to hide a dead body or one of the teachers sleeping with a student.

“School _is_ almost over,” Alyssa pointed out. “Speaking of, do you guys have plans for summer yet? College? Year abroad?”

“Oh, Sue, you absolute bookworm,” Kaylee said. “Not EVERYTHING is about school, you know.”

Alyssa blustered at her. “I said year abroad!”

“That has to do with school,” Kaylee said. She patted her head. “Nice try, though.”

“I’m going to stick your hand into a printer and make multiple copies of it so I can throw them all away like they’re trash, which they are,” Alyssa threatened.

Kaylee sucked in her lips to keep from laughing and breaking the scene. “Very informative.” She said, struggling to keep the laughter at bay.

“I’M going to Paris!” Linda shoved her way into the conversation, and Winnie couldn’t tell if that was because of her character or if she was just always craving the spotlight.

Alyssa raised her eyebrows in interest. “Wow, really?”

“Paris?” Kaylee said at the same time.

Linda nodded her head with a prideful smirk. “Yep! Already got the tickets and everything!”

“I hear they pee in the streets in Paris,” Hayden piped up helpfully.

Linda took off her shoe and threw it at Hayden. Hayden yelped like a crusty white dog when it hit her in the shoulder.

“Hey! Rude!” Hayden yelled.

“I didn’t need to hear that!” Linda barked.

“Well, sorry!” Hayden raised her hands up innocently. “I just thought it was interesting! France trivia! And now you know you don’t have to search for bathrooms when you go!”

“I doubt that’s true,” Linda said.

“No, I think I heard that, too,” Natalie spoke back up, and Linda shot her a betrayed look. 

“It’s not true!” Linda said again, this time with her voice raised several pitches. 

“The city of love and piss,” Alyssa snorted. 

Kaylee extended one hand to Alyssa grandly. “My lady, shall we waltz through this river of piss? It may be deep, but my love for you is even deeper.”

Alyssa fell into the act quickly and took Kaylee’s hand. “I would be honored! The yellow of this cursed cascade brings out your eyes beautifully.”

“Why thank you,” Kaylee said. “The smell of ammonia is almost as wonderful as your coconut and rose perfume.”

“Woah, Sue and Chris are gay,” Hayden commented.

“Don’t tell Tommy and Billy,” Natalie said.

Trent nodded in approval at the improvised scene. He looked to Winnie for a moment, then read from his script, _“SCREAM! Wrapped in a towel, Carrie bolts from the shower into the locker room- a ribbon of blood dripping down her leg, her bloody hand extended.”_

Winnie didn’t even have time to take a breath before a scream surfaced from her throat. It came out sounding more like a warbled cry a jungle bird would make rather than a shriek of pure terror and confusion that was spurred on by pain and sudden vaginal bleeding, but she had no time to apologize for her awful performance or ask to try again before her legs were moving without consent and she was launching forward. Her script flapped like a flag at her side as she skittered across the floor to her fellow co-stars, one hand outstretched and grasping desperately. Instantly, they all jumped away from her with shouts of shock and disgust.

“What the hell?” Linda said.

“Help me! Please help me!” Winnie cried. Her ears were already flaming red with embarrassment over the scene; she thanked god for her long hair, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before the abashed blush crept to the rest of her face. Maybe everyone would just think it was from her character. This was a humiliating thing to happen, after all!

God, she was overthinking this so badly.

“Oh my god- that’s blood!” Hayden jabbed a finger at Winnie, then scrambled backwards, tripping over her own feet and falling to the ground in a clumsy attempt to get away when Winnie whirled around to her, reaching perilously.

“What happened?” Natalie said loudly.

“It’s Carrie,” Kaylee said. She took a step towards Winnie as if she were some kind of peculiar creature, then instantly took another step back when Winnie turned to her.

“What’d she do now?” Linda asked, sounding snotty.

“She’s hurt,” Alyssa pointed out, noticing the blood that wasn’t really there.

Winnie glanced momentarily at her script, reading over “ _(reaching out to CHRIS)_ ” in blue highlighter under her character’s name, and then did as the text said, extending her hand to Kaylee. 

“I’m bleeding!” She yelled, fully aware of how her voice kept rising in pitch.

“Hold!” Trent cut in suddenly, and they all held their spots. He looked at Winnie. “Winnie?”

Winnie braced herself to be kicked out.

“Y-yes?” She hoped the wavering in her voice wasn’t obvious. The instinct to apologize was tearing at her tongue like a tangle of barbed wire, but she swallowed it back for now, not wanting to make a fool out of herself even more.

“You’re doing great so far,” Trent assured her gently, probably sensing her panic. She was as good at hiding her emotions as she was at getting her parent’s attention. “I just wanted to step in and say, even though the script doesn’t include it, I want you to continue shouting things, okay? Like, asking for help, yelling about what was happening, maybe even saying that it hurts, etcetera. This scene will go really fast once we get into it further, but there will be times where you finish your line first and one of the others may still be going with their own. Because right now you’re panicking and panicking and panicking! And then pausing. Do you see how this can throw off the mood of terror if you go quiet?”

Winnie nodded. “Yes, sir.” Her insides felt like a stew of lava.

“Don’t wait for them to say their lines, okay?” Trent told her. “Fill the space with some improv before the actual cue line. Think you can do that?”

Winnie nodded again. “Yes, sir. Sorry.” 

Ah, there it was. It came later than she expected. A new record!

“It’s alright, Winnie,” Trent said kindly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll stop everyone and make additions to their blocking. That’s the whole point of this run through.”

Another nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

Trent smiled at her, then looked down at his script. “Alright… Let’s take it from the top at Carrie’s entrance.”

Winnie’s heart sank. Great. She had to scream again.

Winnie walked back to the wall to wait, while the other actresses huddled back together in a group. She stood by until Trent nodded at her, then let out a slightly less terrible but still unauthentic scream and dashed back out into the center of the green room. Like before, everyone scattered away from her, this time more frantic than before.

“Help!” Winnie yelled.

“What the hell?” Linda said.

“Help me! Please help me!” Winnie cried.

“Oh my god--” Hayden leaned in to get a good look at Winnie’s hand, then reeled away. “That’s blood!”

“What happened?” Natalie asked loudly, while Winnie continued to bleat like an injured lamb.

“It’s Carrie.” Kaylee said helpfully.

“What’d she do now?” Linda scoffed.

“Help me!!”

“She’s hurt,” Alyssa observed.

Remembering what her script said from before, Winnie sprinted at Kaylee, reaching to her. “I’m bleeding!!”

Kaylee barely managed to jump away in time before she could barrel into her. “Yuck! Get away from me!”

A quick glance to her script--“ _(frantically running to SUE)_ ”--and then Winnie was rushing over to Alyssa. Alyssa jumped away from her, but she persisted in her chase, wanting to make up for her terrible two screams and pause in the scene with proper blocking. 

“I’m _dying_!” Winnie warbled.

“For god’s sake, Carrie--” Alyssa laughed, sounding both exasperated and repulsed. “You’ve just got your period!”

There was a sudden swell of laughter that was so loud and so realistic that, for a moment, Winnie got this awful, twisty feeling in her gut that they were laughing at _her_ . That her acting was _so bad_ that her fellow co-stars couldn’t help but laugh at how dumb and awful and useless she was. That they found her performance so hilarious that they were in disbelief over how she managed to get cast. That her being cast in the first place was all one big joke on her, and she was finally becoming aware of it. 

And then she remembered that they were supposed to laugh at her. And that made her feel even more embarrassed than before. 

How pathetic could she be?

“Wh-what?” Winnie finally said, slightly delayed because of her own humiliation.

Kaylee scoffed loudly. “Hey everybody! Carrie’s got her period!”

The laughter increased tenfold, so much so that that fear from before resurfaced. Was everyone in the whole room laughing with them or were the group of actresses just really loud? Or was it all in her head?

There was a pause of silence, so Winnie tried to obey Trent’s orders, went off-book, and sputtered out, “I-I don’t understand! What’s going on with me? Help me!”

The improv was rewarded with, “Good, Winnie!” from Trent, which made her feel a little bit better.

Kaylee and her goons exchanged devilish looks and sinister smirks before she took a long, exaggerated step towards Winnie. “Period…”

Winnie shuffled back, but Kaylee took another large step. “Period…”

Now she was getting nervous. Winnie tried to move away again, but then Kaylee’s hands slammed into her chest and sent her to the floor with so much force that she slid across the tile slightly. “PERIOD!”

Well _that_ wasn’t on the blocking. She wondered if Kaylee meant for it to hurt because now her spine and tailbone were throbbing. Trent seemed to eat it up, though, so she dealt with it.

All of the girls were starting to join in on the chant. They swarmed Winnie like hornets, their faces twisted with cruelness and amusement and disgust, all laughing. Laughing at _her._

“PERIOD! PERIOD! PERIOD!” The group yelled in unison.

“Goddamn retard!” Jess sneered.

“Dumb bitch!” Elisha reviled.

“Stupid shit!” Kay taunted.

“Fucking dirty pig!” Emily shouted.

“Dumbass!” Christy bellowed.

“PERIOD! PERIOD! PERIOD!”

Funny. You would think that Winnie would be used to being yelled at and insulted at this point.

“Carrie’s got the cur-rse! Carrie’s got the cur-rse!” Kaylee whooped in a melody of barbarity.

“I’m _BLEEDING!_ ” Winnie screamed back at her and her pack of bullies. It was honestly kind of terrifying to look up at them all towering over her like they were, spitting insult after insult in her face, cackling like hyenas until they made her feel like this wasn’t acting anymore. She felt so tiny on the floor, not that she was tall to begin with, but now she was completely dwarfed by them and their disgust.

“Well, clean yourself up,” Alyssa said plainly. She walked over to the tub of highlighters, grabbed a pink one, and tossed it Winnie. It hit Winnie lightly on the shoulder, but she still flinched anyway.

 _That_ started a storm.

Literally.

After another swell of laughter, the girls swarmed the tub, yanking out handfuls of highlighters with more eagerness than Winnie was personally comfortable with. Then, they rounded on her, eyes lit with sadism, faces split with awful smirks. 

“Per-iod!” Kaylee threw the first one. “Per-iod!”

“Per-iod!” Linda joined in.

“Per-iod!” Hayden was next.

“PER-IOD! PER-IOD! PER-IOD!” And then everyone else followed.

A flurry of highlighters pelted Winnie without mercy. Neon yellow and electric blue, hot pink and lime green, bright orange and lambent purple fell like a colorful, plastic rain. She attempted to scramble away on her hands and knees, but one managed to get underneath her palm and she slipped back down to the ground. 

The degrees of force behind the throws varied from actress to actress. Alyssa was throwing lazily, clearly trying not to hurt her, while Elisha was throwing highlighters like they were fucking baseballs at her. She swore that Jess was specifically aiming for the back of her head, Emily seemed dead set on putting a cap in one of her ears, and Linda was most definitely throwing at her throat on purpose. Kaylee was, surprisingly, rather gentle, along with Kay, Christy, and Natalie, but then Hayden came through open firing on her relentlessly, and, damn, did she do something to these women in their past lives or something?!

“Per-iod! Per-iod! Per-iod! PER-IOD!” One group bellowed.

“Carrie! Carrie! Carrie! _Carrie!_ ” A second roared.

“Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up!” The third shrieked.

God, this was overwhelming. No wonder Carrie reacted the way she did in all the movies. Winnie would be crying and screaming, too!  
Oh, wait-- she was crying. Or maybe her eyes were just teary thanks to the bright orange highlighter that stabbed it. She couldn’t tell at this point.

Winnie then recognized the tightness in her chest as that of a budding panic attack, and she couldn’t tell if that was a bad thing or not. On one hand, it was a damn panic attack. She wouldn’t be able to breathe and was probably going to make a huge scene out of her gasping and wheezing. But on the other hand, it may make the scene even better. She _was_ supposed to be hyperventilating, after all. 

“PER-IOD! PER-IOD! PER-IOD! PER-IOD!”

“CARRIE! CARRIE! CARRIE! CARRIE!”

“PLUG IT UP! PLUG IT UP! PLUG IT UP! PLUG IT UP!”  
“What the hell is going on?!” Angie’s voice, as strong and powerful as it was, was barely heard over the din. The green room seemed to be filled by a screeching hurricane.

As the girls closed in, undeterred by Angie’s presence, Winnie backed away, wailing and screaming back at them. She wasn’t bothering with hiding her trembling anymore. Maybe it would impress Trent.

“CARRIE! CARRIE! CARRIE!” They all joined together. “CARRIE! CARRIE! CARRIE! _CARRIE!_ ”

Winnie felt like that was enough. She slammed her hand onto the ground and shrieked, “ _STOP!!_ ”

“ _At that moment, an overhead light suddenly explodes!”_ Trent read off quickly from the script. He sounded very interested. _“Flex sound. The girls scream.”_

Aside from Winnie, all the actresses looked up at the ceiling, as if a light had actually broken.

“Shit!” Kaylee yelped. “Didja see that?!”

“Oh my god!” Alyssa laughed nervously. She then made a noise of shock as Angie suddenly grappled her and shook her furiously.

“What are you _doing_?!” Angie yelled in her face. She then looked down at Winnie, and the concern in her eyes, even if it was from an act, made Winnie’s stomach feel all fluttery and warm. 

Angie shoved Alyssa to the side with enough force to send the young woman tottering into Kaylee, then knelt down beside Winnie. When she said her next lines, her voice was much more tame than when it had been towards Alyssa and the other girls.

“Carrie? Hey, what’s going on?”

Winnie was hunched over on her knees, which wasn’t the best position for her burning lungs, but she didn’t dare move. She glanced at her script lying listlessly nearby, somehow not torn from the mayhem that had gone down, read off her next line, swallowed down her shame, and moaned out, “It hurts… My stomach…”

Angie was quiet for a moment, considering her, eyebrows knitted together in a mix of confusion and concern. “Stand up and take care of yourself.”

Alyssa, having recovered from being thrown to the side like a sack of potatoes, stepped back up to the pair, looking awkward. “I think this must be the first time she’s ever had her period.”

A few girls snickered and whispered to each other as Angie looked from Winnie to Alyssa then back to Winnie, eyes wide. 

“Oh my god, you don’t know?” Angie said to Winnie. 

Winnie uttered out a strangled whimper as a response, even though she really didn’t have to. Maybe she was finally getting into her role and shaking off the fear.

Angie’s arms were suddenly around her, warm and strong and protective, and Winnie damn near blacked out. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched her like this.

“You’re okay, Carrie,” Angie said to her in a gentle, maternal voice that made Winnie’s stomach get the flutters again. “You’re going to be alright. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Winnie couldn’t help but lean into Angie’s warmth. She wished the whole musical could be spent like this.

“You have _got_ to be kidding,” Natalie scoffed.

“Talk about clueless!” Linda tittered.

Angie whipped her head around to them. She pulled her arms tighter around Winnie. “Alright, show’s over! Clean up this mess and get to class!”

With a few groans, the girls began picking up the mess of highlighters. Kaylee pulled Alyssa aside before she could start helping.

“Can you stand it? She never knew--”

“Chris!” Angie yelled.

“But Chris is right, Miss Gardener,” Alyssa said.

“Sue, what’s gotten into you?” There was disgust in Angie’s voice.

“Oh, c’mon,” Alyssa said, laughing slightly. She gestured for Winnie. “It’s just Carrie!”

Winnie flinched further into Angie’s side. The embrace tightened protectively.

“Shame on you,” Angie snarled lowly. 

Angie helped Winnie to her feet, which Winnie was supremely grateful for even though it was in their blocking, and gently guided her over to the wall. Alyssa scoffed and shook her head, walking in the opposite direction with Kaylee. Before the next lines could be spoken, Trent cut in energetically.

“Amazing! That was amazing!” He said while clapping. He turned his head to the rest of the cast. “CLAP!”

They all clapped.

“But that was exactly what I was looking for!” Trent went on. “And it’ll look even better once we get it onstage with all the costumes and props and special effects!” He looked at Winnie. “Winnie! How are you feeling?”

Winnie was still trying to catch her breath from that absolute rush of adrenaline. She flashed him a weak thumbs up. He grinned at her. 

“You did great,” Trent said. “You all did!”

“Highlighters hurt,” Winnie managed to say, and everyone laughed. She was only half-joking, though, because she swore she felt bruises forming all along her back and sides. 

“Alright, next! Barry, standby.” Trent looked down at his script. _“Scene 2: Girls’ Locker Room/Guidance Counselor’s Office.”_ He then looked at Alyssa and Kaylee for them to begin.

“Do you believe her, going off on me like that?” Alyssa said, offended by Angie’s reaction.

Kaylee did a very bad impression of Angie, “‘Sue, shame on you! What’s gotten into you?’” The imitation died away, and an impish smirk came to her lips. “Besides Tommy Ross’s tongue.”

Against the wall, where she was sitting on the floor, Emma nodded with a cocky grin.

Alyssa shoved Kaylee playfully, laughing. “Stop it!” She ignored Kaylee’s smug expression and tittering as she went on, “I mean, who does she think she is, anyway? It’s not like this was all _my_ fault. I wasn’t the only one…”

“Screw her,” Kaylee said dismissively. “Who gives a damn what some lizzie gym teacher thinks, anyway?”

“She’s not a lesbian! At least, I don’t think she is. She’s not.” Alyssa looked at Kaylee, head tilted, eyebrows furrowed. “Is she?”

At Winnie’s side, Angie quirked an eyebrow.

Kaylee waved a hand. “Who cares? Details, details…” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Oh my god! Norma’s already posted about it!” 

Alyssa huddled into her side to look at the screen.

_“In another space, Miss Gardener updates guidance counselor and English teacher, Mr. Stephens,”_ Trent read off the script.

Angie and Barry walked to the center of the room. Winnie felt weirdly cold without Angie’s protective, maternal presence beside her.

“It’s hard to believe any girl today could still be ignorant of the facts of life,” Barry said.

“That’s just it: when I tried to explain it to Carrie, she didn’t seem to know what I was talking about,” Angie said.

“I mean, what are the odds?” 

Angie shook her head. “You’d have thought her mother would have told her.”

The scene shifted back to Alyssa and Kaylee. 

“And that mother of hers, always ranting how everybody’s going straight to hell- except her and her precious little Carrie,” Kaylee rolled her eyes.

“Oh my god,” Alyssa hit Kaylee’s arm frantically. “Remember that time in third grade when she got down on her knees in the cafeteria?”

Kaylee lit up. “Praying with that bible!”

Alyssa barked a laugh. “And that _dress_! Remember?” She spoke in a sing-song chant. “Prayin’ Carrie…”

Kaylee joined in with her, “Ugly, short, and hairy… All her friends are, uh!” They bumped hips. “Imaginary!” 

The two of them howled with laughter at the memory.

Back to Angie and Barry. As they did so, Winnie slipped to the other side of the room, realizing she had to be near Alyssa and Kaylee for her next entrance.

“As usual, Chris Hargensen was the ringleader,” Angie said.

“No surprise there,” Barry said.

“But even Sue Snell was doing it.” Angie sounded more serious.

Barry looked surprised. “I’d expect a stunt like this from Chris, but Sue…”

“ _All_ the girls were doing it,” Angie was grave.

“Well, you’ll have to take care of it, Lynn. Read them the riot act!”

And then to Alyssa and Kaylee again. Winnie started to slowly walk past the two of them.

“And that light bulb!” Kaylee cackled. “Did you _love_ it?” She noticed Winnie and leaned in, yelling, “ _POW!_ ”

Winnie flinched away, ducking her head as if expecting a blow. She quickly shuffled onwards.

“Her mother should have told her,” Alyssa said, watching her go.

“Like mother, like daughter!” Kaylee yelled after Winnie.

“Shh!” Alyssa tugged on her arm. “She’ll hear you.”

“You care too much about what people think,” Kaylee said. “Oh, I almost forgot! My folks are away. Party at my house tonight!”

And finally, back to Angie and Barry. Winnie reached the two of them, and they looked at her with matching expressions of concern. She wished it was normal for her to be gazed upon in such a way.

“Carrie, go home and rest for the remainder of the day,” Angie said, placing a gentle hand on Winnie’s shoulder. Winnie fought every urge to grab it and pull it to her cheek.

“We’re all terribly sorry about this, Carrie,” Barry said. He didn’t exude the same sort of comfort as Angie did. Perhaps it was because he was a man, and she was more starved for maternal affection. 

“Skip gym this week,” Angie added. “Take study hall instead.”

“Alright, hold!” Trent called out, and all the actors held their position. “We’re going to skip past ‘Carrie’ and go to the next scene. So, everyone except Alyssa, clear out.”

They all did as they were told. Winnie was starting to regret not bringing her water bottle. She was really thirsty, but didn’t want to ask to leave to get a drink from the water fountain because then everything would probably have to pause and she didn’t want to ruin the flow they had going on.

“Alright… _Scene 3A: Interrogation Space._ ” Trent read. _“WHOOSH! That cone of white light finds Sue again.”_

Alyssa didn’t raise her hand this time, but she did squint into the imaginary light that was trying to blind her. She seemed to be adjusting to it a bit more. Her body language exuded great exhaustion, as if her character had been in the interrogation room for hours without a break.

“What exactly was Tommy Ross’s involvement in all of this?” Barry asked.

Despite her fatigue, Alyssa got riled up when Tommy Ross was mentioned. She raised her slouching shoulders and growled, “Forget it! I’m not going there!”

“Surely, there’s something.” Barry said, his voice uncaring in the face of her distress.

“ _Please_ , Sue.” Angie urged, gentler than her character’s partner. “Tell us.”

Alyssa’s anger was smothered like a candle in a blizzard. Her shoulders drooped again, eyes becoming dark with emotions. When she spoke, she sounded tired.

“He…he was an amazing athlete, but he was good at whatever he did. On or off the field.” Alyssa said. “He…he was my…” She struggled to find the words. “ _Tommy_ …”

_“Scene 4: Town Park.”_ Trent read, then looked at Emma, Kyle, Marcus, and Noah expectantly. They quickly stood up and got into position in the center of the green room. “Okay, we don’t have a ball, but…”

Emma took off her shoe. “You may use my shoe.” She handed it to Marcus.

“I-- thank you, Emma.” Trent said. “Glad you’re feeling better to be so generous.”

Emma laughed loudly.

“Alright… _Tommy enters, tossing a ball around with best bud and wingman George, gangly brain Stokes, and class comic Freddy.”_

“Heads up, Ross!” Marcus tossed the shoe to Emma like it was a football.

“Yo, Ross, you psyched about Prom?” Noah asked.

“Yeah, right,” Emma scoffed. She seemed to be feeling much better than she had been at the beginning of the rehearsals, or maybe she was just really good at hiding that she was in pain, which would make her and Winnie have something in common. Either way, she was standing up straight with a chill, laidback expression and moved fluidly despite her vagina actively dumping out blood into her pants. “You ever seen me in a tux? I look like a freakin’ penguin.”

“Shut up, Tommy!” Kyle snapped, getting defensive. “You’re gonna look great!” When he saw the way the others reacted, he went on hastily, “ _What?_ Girls eat that shit up!”

“Anyway…” Marcus looked away from him and back to Emma. “You invited Sue yet?”

“Tonight.” Emma said, glancing at Alyssa for a moment. Winnie noticed a glint of _something_ in her eyes when she looked at her co-star. “I’ve sort of been waiting for the right moment.”

“Dude, you wait much longer, Prom’s gonna be over.” Kyle said.

Nick suddenly sprinted towards them, tackling Emma and nearly making her fall over. “Yo, sucker! Beep-beep, coming through!”

Emma regained her balance. “Jesus, Billy! Watch it!”

“So, what are you girls up to?” Nick asked, sounding for all the world like a basic high school douchebag. Winnie really did _not_ want to have to interact with him, but she didn’t want to disappoint Trent even more, so she sucked it up and started walking past the group like her stage directions ordered. Nick noticed her in an instant, and whirled around to her with great, morbid interest.

“Well, if it ain’t Prayin’ Carrie!” Nick circled her like a vulture. She backed away warily. The hungry look in his eyes looked too real, realer than the laughter in the period scene. “Wonder who’s taking her to the Prom…her mother?”

Emma seemed to sense it, too, the darkness Nick was radiating, or maybe she was just following her own stage directions, but she stepped up to the two of them while Kyle, Marcus, and Noah stood back, watching in interest. 

“Leave her alone, Billy,” Emma said.

Nick ignored her. He advanced on Winnie. 

“Hey, baby,” His hand, callous and rough, caressed around Winnie’s sides like hungry snakes. Winnie clenched her jaw and dealt with it. The script said Billy was supposed to fiddle with Carrie’s skirt, but Winnie wasn’t wearing a skirt, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt and thought he was just improvising. “I bet you’re a real hottie under all… _that!_ ” 

And then he spanked her butt so hard it made an audible slapping sound throughout the room.

 _That_ was most definitely _not_ in the script.

Winnie jerked away with a squeal. At the same time, Emma practically barreled into Nick and shoved him backwards.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Emma snarled in his face. Her expression was enraged, and Winnie could tell that _that_ was real.

Nick blinked, then hissed, “That isn’t your line.”

“I don’t fucking care that it’s not my fucking line,” Emma growled, shoving him again. “Why did you fucking hit her?”

“You need to calm the fuck down,” Nick said. “Trent said we can take creative liberties with our parts. That’s all I did.”

“Bullshit!”

“Alright, you two,” Trent stepped in quickly. “Break it up right now.”

Emma backed away from Nick with a final growl underneath her breath. She stood in front of Winnie as if she were shielding her from Nick, and Winnie realized she _was_ shielding her from him. Emma was protecting her, and not because her character did so in the script. This wasn’t even improv! This was real! Someone was really concerned over her!

Wow. So that was what it felt like to be cared for.

“Nick,” Trent turned to the young man. “I appreciate your…excitement to make the role your own, but you cannot hit girls, especially young girls, without their permission.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “She’s not _that young_ ,” He argued. He looked at Winnie, who was still slightly shell shocked over being spanked. “Hey, kid, how old are you? Eighteen? Nineteen?”

“I’m fifteen,” Winnie said.

Nick’s smug expression fell from his face so fast that it was almost funny if it weren’t for the implications. Emma whipped her head around to him, even more enraged. Several of the others seemed to match the way she was feeling.

“Oh.” Nick said, then tried to shrug it off. “It’s still no big deal!”

“It kind of is a big deal,” Alyssa said.

“Dude, you’re a whole ass adult,” Hayden added.

“I’m no lawyer, but I’m pretty sure that can be considered sexual harassment,” Dee Dee spoke up. “You don’t touch kids like that.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Nick glared at her. “What your character does to her character is so much worse than a little slap!”

Dee Dee riled herself up and glared back at him. “ _I_ have permission to do all of that stuff. I asked her myself and she said it was okay. _You_ did nothing of the sort. But I expect nothing less. ‘Consent’ doesn’t look like it would be in your vocabulary.”

Several people went “oooh” as Nick became red in the face with rage. Emma looked smug, while Dee Dee smirked. Winnie was even more shocked than before. Emma defending her was one thing, but DEE DEE ALLEN? She was starting to feel faint again.

“Everyone calm down,” Trent said before a fight or screaming match could break out. “Nick, please do not touch Winnie like that unless you have her consent. She is a child.” He looked to Winnie, not giving Nick the chance to argue. His eyes softened. “Are you alright, Winnie?”

Winnie nodded, slightly embarrassed with everyone staring at her. It was different when she was acting; they _had_ to watch her. But they shouldn’t be looking at her like they were.

“Yeah,” She said. “It just, umm, startled me. I’m okay.”

Trent nodded. “Think we can start before that line? We can start after it if you aren’t comfortable.”

“No, it’s alright,” Winnie said. “We can start before.”

Another nod. “Alright, let’s pick up from Billy’s entrance.”

Everyone got into place. Nick ran into Emma as he had done before, but much more violently this time. It was clear he was trying to get back at her for calling him out. Emma remained levelheaded, however, and brushed him off.

“Jesus, Billy!” She said again. “Watch it!”

Nick snickered, stepping back. “So, what are you girls up to?” Like before, he spotted Winnie walking by, and his gaze wasn’t any less malevolent. “Well, if it ain’t Prayin’ Carrie!”

He took a single step towards her, and Winnie already flinched away, thinking he was going to hit her again. He didn’t, thank god, but that didn’t reduce the fear as he circled her.

“Wonder who’s taking her to the Prom…her mother?”

“Leave her alone, Billy.” Emma said. Her gaze was watchful, ready to attack if Nick tried something again.

Nick ignored her as he said, “Hey, baby, I bet you’re a real hottie under all _that_!” He didn’t slap her this time, but he did fiddle with her sweatpants, so Winnie quickly jumped away from him.

“You’re such an asshole,” Emma growled.

Ignoring her once again, Nick went after Winnie. Her cowering seemed to encourage him.

“C’mon, church-girl, dance with me!” He spread his arms out like a perverted rendition of Jesus Christ. “ _I’ll_ make you see God!”

_“She glares at him. Flex Sound. His skateboard flies out from under him, and he goes sprawling,”_ Trent read, then looked up from his script. “We don’t have a skateboard right now, so Nick, just fall over and then continue.”

Nick keeled over. “Oof! What the hell?”

The other three boys erupted into laughter.

“Good one, Nolan!” Kyle chortled.

“How’s your pussy, princess?” Marcus taunted.

Nick jumped up and shoved Marcus into Kyle. “What’re you laughing at, huh?” He whirled around to Winnie and began storming towards her like a charging bull. “The goddamn BITCH TRIPPED ME!”

Emma quickly jumped into his path and pushed him back. Nick stepped back, glared at all of them, then stomped away. Once he was gone, Emma turned to Winnie and addressed her with soft eyes and a gentle voice.

“Hey, you alright?”

Winnie nodded meekly, but didn’t say anything. She kept her eyes downcast as the boys snickered.

“Hey, Tommy,” Kyle called. “You coming or what?”

“Yeah, leave the freak and let’s go,” Marcus said. 

“Don’t pay any attention to those clowns,” Emma said to Winnie sincerely. “They’re just messing around.”  
As they walked away, Winnie dared to look up after her with longing. 

“Good!” Trent said. “Good, good, good. Next, we’re going to gloss over ‘Open Your Heart’, so… _Scene 5: White Bungalow_.” He looked at Dee Dee and Winnie. “Dee Dee, Winnie, you’re up.”

Winnie glanced at Dee Dee nervously. Even though she defended her, she couldn’t help but be frightened by the woman. 

She and Dee Dee walked to the center of the green room. Trent gestured for them to begin, as there weren’t any major stage directions for him to read. Winnie mentally hyped herself up, then looked up at Dee Dee and said, “I love you, Mama.”

* * *

During the lunch break in between the two acts, Trent approached Winnie while she was alone at the water fountains. She prepared herself for bad news.

“You’ve done wonderfully so far, Winnie,” Trent said. “I am extremely impressed with your performance, especially with how young you are compared to everyone else.”

“I feel like this is followed by a ‘but’?” Winnie said uneasily.

Trent laughed a little. “It isn’t anything bad,” He assured her. “I’ve just noticed that you’re sort of shut in when you perform. Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re doing great, but I also don’t think you’re not giving it your all. You need to open up, Winnie. You got this role for a reason. Embrace your meek, mistreated, misunderstood character and wow all of us.”

Winnie nodded. “Yes, sir.” _You don’t understand how easy it is for me to be scared…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extreme tldr  
> the whole cast: *literally just doing their job, reading their lines, acting the way the script says they should act*  
> winnie: they hate me, they're doing this to torment me, it's all a joke, i'm being punished


	4. Levitated Mass

**Alyssa**

  
Another week later, Alyssa awoke to a text from Emma.

 **Em-Gem:** _wanna get coffee this morning?_

 **Em-Gem:** _i’ll pay_

 **SueSnail:** _Password question: What’s my favorite drink?_

What? It may be 6:30 in the morning, but she can still have fun! Plus, it made her heart happy to know Emma knew so many things about her.

 **Em-Gem:** _come on, lyssa, i gave you the code last night! i don’t think the answer has changed in the ten hours since we spoke_

 **SueSnail:** _Passcode question: What’s my favourite drink?_

 **Em-Gem:** _fine!_

 **Em-Gem:** _raspberry tea with lemon_

 **Em-Gem:** _happy?_

 **SueSnail:** _Very._

 **SueSnail:** _I would love to get coffee with you. :)_

 **Em-Gem:** _yay!! :D_

 **SueSnail:** _Is you paying this one time supposed to equate to all the times I’ve bought you coffee?_

 **Em-Gem:** _shut up!!_

 **Em-Gem:** _i’m being nice! appreciate me!_

 **SueSnail:** _I absolutely do._

 **SueSnail:** _Where do you want to meet?_

 **Em-Gem:** _is the Espresso Express good? around 7:10-7:20?_

 **SueSnail:** _That sounds wonderful. :) I’ll see you then!_

She set her phone back on her nightstand and got up to get ready for the day.

Slowly but surely, _Carrie: The Musical_ was getting more and more on its feet. With each passing day (they had practice four times a week--Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday--for those who still had school or traditional work), the show came together a little more. Blocking became smoother, lines were spoken clearer, and the scripts were used less and less as everyone memorized their parts from the constant repetition of scenes. Trent said they were going to be starting the songs and choreography during the next week, which sent a thrill of excitement zipping through Alyssa’s veins when she thought about finally being able to sing.

Especially being able to sing with Emma.

Alyssa adored every scene she got to do with Emma. They became more hands-on with each other the longer they practiced, holding hands or hugging or cuddling as if they were a regular couple. She couldn’t deny how much chemistry there was between them, and she wondered if there was any realness to it aside from just their characters being a couple.

She wondered if Emma felt the same way she did.

Alyssa wasn’t stupid. She and Emma were not supposed to be so comfortable and lovey with each other, regardless of the relationship between the characters they played. There was something there, Alyssa knew there had to be. There was no way Emma was faking the way she looked at her. 

Alyssa couldn’t remember when exactly she realized she was gay, she just remembered losing interest in every boy around her. She came to look upon them with a sort of disdain, wondering why she had ever been attracted to them in the first place. A lot of them were misogynistic assholes that thought she was nothing more than a pair of tits. Women were different.

 _Emma_ was different. 

She was just hoping she wasn’t looking too far into things.

After getting dressed and grabbing all her things for practice that day, Alyssa left her apartment and walked down the frostbitten sidewalk to the coffee shop. The Espresso Express was one of those cafes on the corner street, easy for anyone to see and stop by in. Outside, looking down at her phone, was Emma.

“Good morning,” Alyssa greeted her as she walked over.

Emma looked up from her phone and smiled brightly. She always looked so happy when Alyssa was around her. It made Alyssa’s heart flutter.

“Alyssa! Hey!” Emma grinned brightly. “You made it!”

“Well, of course,” Alyssa said. “How could I ever pass up free coffee?”

“Oh, _suuure_ ,” Emma said. “ _That’s_ why you came. Not to see your favorite person in the whole wide world.”   
Alyssa raised one eyebrow. “Who said you were my favorite?”

“I did,” Emma said. “Now, let’s go inside! I’m cold!”

They stepped inside the bustling coffee shop, and it smelled strongly of roasted coffee beans and vanilla. Alyssa noticed that Emma was pressing close to her to avoid touching the other patrons, and it made her stomach feel all flappy and squiggly the way it usually did when they touched.

Alyssa ordered a vanilla macchiato, while Emma got a caramel frappuccino, despite the freezing temperature outside. They both got a ham and cheese breakfast sandwich to eat, since neither of them had had breakfast yet. Alyssa couldn’t help but criticize Emma’s choice of drink.

“The point of coffee is to NOT be cold,” Alyssa said after Emma had paid. “You just said you were!”

“I know, but still!” Emma prodded her arm. “Hot coffee isn’t sweet enough for me.”

“ _You’re_ sweet enough.” Alyssa said.

Emma’s cheeks turned red and she sputtered on her words for a moment before giving up on trying to respond and taking a sip from her drink to cool her down. Alyssa laughed. They both sat down at a small table by the large windows overlooking the street.

For what felt like hours, Alyssa and Emma just talked, long enough for a light snowfall to start outside. Emma told her about when she first started singing, while Alyssa shared a story about the time she blew up peanut brittle in chemistry class. Emma’s resulting laugh was like music to her ears. She wanted to hear it forever and ever.

However, something began to curl itself in the back of Alyssa’s head. Something that she had been extremely curious about ever since it happened. It grew like a coil of ivy through her brain until she couldn’t help but let it sprout out.

When the conversation shifted to a new topic, she plunged and asked, “Why’d you get so defensive over Winnie?”

Emma looked surprised. She paused her process of taking another sip from her drink, looked at her, swallowed, then said, “What?”

“During practice a week ago,” Alyssa specified. “After Nick, you know, slapped her. You got REALLY defensive, which was very attractive, by the way. But why’d you get like that? I mean, I know it’s just common decency, but still.” 

There had been something there, something in Emma’s eyes that was more than just justified anger. There was something deeper that Alyssa so badly wanted to know more about.

Emma took another sip, long and slow, then said, “It’s a personal thing. But I don’t mind sharing.”

Alyssa felt a little bad for having pushed her into talking about something personal, but at the same time, she was eager to hear what Emma had to say. She was always wanting to know everything, every little detail.

“I had this friend in high school,” Emma said. “We knew each other for a long time. Six years, I think? So since sixth grade. His name isn’t important anymore, but we were close at the time. Close enough for the dumbass to develop a crush on me.” She laughed and shook her head. “He was such an idiot. I literally came out as a lesbian to him and he STILL thought he had a chance. But he was also a guy, so no surprise there.”

Alyssa laughed, but she got an awful feeling at the back of her throat at the same time. She tried to swallow it down, but it refused to go away, only getting stronger when Emma’s expression darkened slightly.

Emma licked over her lips and then started again, her voice slightly lower than before, “I knew what he wanted for so long. I thought he was kind, but he wasn’t. He--” She sighed, rubbed a hand over her face sluggishly. “I told him I didn’t want to, that I was a lesbian and the whole point of being one is to not be attracted to men. He kept asking, and every time I said no he’d say it was okay and wouldn’t push it, but he kept bringing it up and started to get impatient and angry, so he--” She glared down at her drink and stabbed her straw into the froth of whipped cream over the top.

Alyssa felt sick. She felt sick and she felt scared and she felt _angry._

Alyssa Greene was not one to get angry, never had been. She had always been known as the calm, collected type, who could settle any argument, who could smooth out any fight, who could ease an quarrel simply by appearing and having the ability to exact constitution into those who were worked up. Even in the very rare instances when her words got her pinned against walls, toes crushed under shoes, so close she could see the brightness of the whites of the other person’s eyes, spit flicked in her face, she did not get mad, and that would always make her opposer’s even angrier in return. Violence was supremely unnecessary in petty squabbles; there was nothing better than watching your opponent lose their absolute mind over a lack of reaction.

But this-- this made her _seriously pissed off._ This made all those years of playing peacekeeper come rushing back, all those times she wanted to say something but knew she was better off in the end, all those little instances where her fists would tighten so much her fingernails carved out little bloody crescent moons in her palms. All of it returned to her, and the rage came with it, hot and burning like dragon’s breath.

“Did he--” She struggled to get the words out through the sudden haze of red. She was surprised that flames didn’t come shooting out of her mouth when she spoke. Her body certainly felt hot enough to produce some sort of fire. “Emma, did he--”

Emma shook her head. “Not really.”

But that wasn’t a _no._

Alyssa put her hands in her lap so Emma wouldn’t see the way she clenched them into claws. She tried to wrestle in the firestorm now fuming inside of her, but she didn’t know if she really even wanted to cool it down. After playing the pacifist for so long, it felt nice to get mad about something without the fear of being sent to the principal’s office for getting into a fight.

“He tried,” Emma went on, and that made Alyssa feel even worse. “We had just gotten some food after school and he went to this old park instead of taking me home like I asked. Then he just started _touching me_ , and I told him no, I asked him to stop, but he just kept trying. So I kicked him in the face, got out of the car, and ran all the way home. When I got back to my house, I threw up in the bushes. I didn’t tell my parents because saying it all out loud would make it real, and I didn’t want to believe that one of my best friends would do something like that to me.” She paused for a moment to take a drink. “That wasn’t even the worst part. When I went back to school that next day, apparently the asshole had outed me to everyone. ‘I thought lesbians don’t like dick!’ was one of the things I was told. They called me a whore, slut, stuff like that. A few people actually slipped condoms and other ‘relics’ into my backpack. It was not fun. And when my parents heard about it, they kicked me out.”

Now Alyssa was not only pissed off but horrified, too. She could get the thing about the other students, kids were assholes, but Emma’s _parents_? How would someone disown their own child in cold blood?

“What did you do?” Alyssa asked, spurred on by morbid curiosity.

“I took all my stuff and ran away to my grandma’s house,” Emma answered. “She lives here in New York. It was a long trip, I had to sleep outside at one point, but I made it and she accepted me with open arms. So I guess that maybe it was a good thing that happened because then I probably wouldn’t be here in the city today! It also builds character!”

Emma laughed, but it did little to ease Alyssa’s righteous anger. As sweet as her laugh was, it couldn’t calm her down.

Well. At least she now knew for sure that Emma was gay.

“Oh, Emma,” Alyssa said. Her gaze softened when she looked at the other woman. “I’m so, so sorry that happened to you.”

Emma shrugged. “Bad shit happens. I’m mostly over it by now. I just think that I’m lucky that I was able to get away. Other girls don’t have as much fortune as yours truly.” She shook her head gravely and took a sip from her drink. “God. Men are the worst.”

Despite her rage, Alyssa snorted. “You got that right. But Trent and Barry aren’t so bad.”

Emma considered it, then nodded. “Yeah. Old men aren’t nearly as bad as adolescent men.”  
“They aren’t that old, Emma!”

“Older than me still!”

They both laughed. This time, it slightly eased the fire burning in Alyssa’s chest.

“Thank you for telling me all of that,” Alyssa said. “I’m honored that you have that much trust in me.”  
Emma smiled at her. “Of course I do! You’re great!”

Alyssa reached over the table and took one of Emma’s hands. “While I’m here with you, I won’t let anything happen to you. Nobody will hurt you like that ever again.” She squeezed it tightly. “I promise.”

Emma looked into her eyes, her expression deeply grateful, and said, “Thank you.”

The moment was then ruined by Alyssa’s phone vibrating on the table. She begrudgingly let go of Emma’s hand to check it.

 **Mr. Director:** _WHERE ARE YOU AND EMMA?!?!?!_

And then she noticed that the time was 9:14. 

She jumped to her feet. “Shit! We’re late!”

“Oh fuck!” Emma yelped.

As fast as they could, they scooped up their things, threw their trash in the trash can, then ran out of the coffee shop.

“Looks like my venting was a lot longer than I thought it would be!” Emma laughed as she ran next to her.

“At least you got to get it off your chest!” Alyssa said in response. “God, Trent is going to kill us.”

If their murder wouldn’t have postponed the production, he probably would have. But that didn’t make him any less angry when they finally arrived at the theater.

“Where have you both been?!” The director yelped, getting after the two of them the moment they stepped into the green room. “You were supposed to be here at 9! It’s now--” He checked his watch, only to realize he didn’t wear a watch and had to pull out his phone. “--9:34!!”

Alyssa laughed slightly. “Sorry, Trent,” She said. “We went out for coffee and kinda lost track of time.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Emma said.

Trent narrowed his eyes at them, then sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s fine.” He said. “Just please, please, _please_ try to be on time from here on out. I can excuse ten minutes, but it’s been half an hour.”

“We won’t let it happen again,” Alyssa swore to him, and Emma nodded at his side.

“Thank you,” Trent said.

“Yeah, it would be a real shame if you two got replaced,” Nick commented. “It wouldn’t be very hard to find someone else. Maybe then we can finally have a Tommy who’s actually a guy.”

Alyssa and Emma both glared at him, but Trent stepped in quickly.

“Nick, stop that,” Trent said. “They made a mistake and they have fixed it. We are moving on from it now.”

Nick huffed, but didn’t argue.

“Now, let’s begin.”

They all did their usual stretches and vocal warmups before jumping into rehearsing. While Trent was sifting through his script, looking for a place to begin, Alyssa noticed that Emma had started to shiver.

“I told you you would be cold if you got a cold drink,” She said

“I don’t like any of the cold drinks!” Emma whined.

Alyssa chuckled, then took off her green parka and swept it around Emma’s shoulders. Emma blinked up at her in shock.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked, slightly flustered.

“You’re shivering,” Alyssa said.

“But now you’re going to get cold!”

“I’ll be fine,” Alyssa waved a dismissive hand. “We’re about to be moving around a lot, anyway.”

“So then you didn’t really need to give me your jacket then.” Emma tilted her head like an adorable puppy.

Alyssa shrugged. “I wanted to.”

Emma blushed. Out of the corner of her eye, Alyssa noticed Winnie looking at them strangely. When she turned her head to her, her gaze snapped forward.

“Okay!” Trent spoke up loudly. “I want to get the ensemble in some more, so we’re going to be picking up from scene six, then going to scene eight because we have to skip over ‘Evening Prayers.’ But we’ll get to that and the other songs next week!” He turned to the group of ensemble members. The nine of them had formed a sort of conclave of sorts, always hanging out with each other when they weren’t in a scene or were waiting for practice. They all seemed to get along rather well. “I want you all to work on your improv some more. Help us make the scenes more natural by having things going on in the background. Pantomime and improv, but don’t be too distracting. Got all that?”

The nine of them nodded.

“Good! So, my ensemble, Hayden, Natalie, Linda, Marcus, Kyle, Noah, Emma, and Kaylee please step up. Alyssa, stand center. Nick, standby.” Trent looked down at his script after everyone got into their required position. _“Scene 6: Interrogation Space/Chris’s House. Us in shadow, Chris and the kids are seen in tableau- lounging at an impromptu party._

_WHOOSH! DS, the cone of white light bumps up on Sue.”_

Alyssa looked up as if there was a bright light shining into her face. “Chris and I were best friends. Our mothers had grown up together and were still incredibly close. We were the two most popular girls- everyone just assumed we’d be friends forever.”

_“The kids break into movement- partying and horsing around.”_

“Suze! Hey, Suze!” Kaylee strode up to Alyssa. She was startlingly good at playing the basic mean girl, so much so that it was almost scary. But at the same time, she reminded Alyssa of a girl she once knew in high school who broke a guy’s nose for flipping a freshmen’s skirt on the main staircase. “Let’s celebrate! I’ve got some great news!”

Alyssa turned to her. “What’s up?”

“It looks like we’ll be going to college together after all!” Kaylee declared.

“But I thought Brown turned you down?” Alyssa tilted her head.

Kaylee’s nose twitched, brow pinching together slightly, then she breezily said, “Yeah, well, Daddy pulled a few strings, and now I’m in, so we can be roomies!” She grabbed onto Alyssa’s arm and bounced up and down. “Is that perfect or what?”

Nick walked over, throwing his arms up into the air. “Party’s here, bitches!”

“EYYY!!” The ensemble cheered loudly, along with several other chorused greetings.

“Hey, Billy!” Kaylee said. When Nick ignored her, she stomped her voice and said louder, “BILLY!”

Nick looked at her from the gaggle of actors he was kneeling over an imaginary line of cocaine with, then got up and walked over. The two of them kissed, and Alyssa wondered how much convincing it took to get Kaylee to willingly kiss such an asshole.

“Man, I’m starved. What’d’ya got to eat?” Nick asked once he broke away.

Alex produced a bag of chips out of their coat, and Alyssa decided to _not_ question how they had kept it from making noise. At that point, it was like an unspoken rule to never question any of the weird shit the ensemble did. 

She leaned into Kaylee, speaking in a hushed tone, “No offense, but you could have anyone. What do you see in him?”

“Easy,” Kaylee said. “He totally freaks out my old man. Daddy’s already offered to buy me a new car if I promise to stop seeing him.” She grinned impishly, and Alyssa felt like this was something that would actually happen in Kaylee’s life. Maybe it already had. “I’m holding out for a Beemer.” She then turned to the others. “So, do you guys believe that stunt in the showers today?”

“Oh my god!” Linda cackled. To Alyssa, she sounded like a hyena. Had the personality of one, too, and not just while she was in-character.

“What happened?” Nick asked, sounding clueless, even though Alyssa knew he loved watching Winnie get pelted by highlighters when they would go over the period scene.

“Carrie White happened.” Kaylee said. “Seventeen-freaking-years-old, guys, and this stupid spazz just stands there, having her very first period!”

The boys looked sickened.

“Gross!” Nick exclaimed, then leaned in interestedly. “In the shower?”

The girls all laughed loudly. Alyssa did not laugh. Linda fell to her knees and began doing an awful imitation of Winnie’s voice, making it sound more like the yowl of a kicked puppy. Alyssa glanced over at Winnie to gauge her reaction, and it looked like Winnie was trying very hard to not be offended.

“I’m dy-ing! I’m _dy-ing!_ ” Linda shrieked, and the laughter rose louder around her.

 _Now_ Winnie _really_ looked offended.

“The blood was dripping down her leg like, ‘Yo, mom, I’m on the rag!’” Kaylee said, then burst into a chortling laugh.

Nick munched on Alex’s bag of chips, then stopped, disgusted. “Hey, I’m eating here!”

Ignoring him, Kaylee went on, “Standing there squealing like a stuck pig.” And then she made the sounds a dying pig would make. 

Alyssa pushed her. “Chris! ENough already! It’s not funny!”

Kaylee looked at her stern expression, then said, “Guys, wait.”

They all stopped laughing.

“Sue’s right. It’s not funny.”

Alyssa breathed out a sigh of relief.

“It’s _hilarious_ !” Kaylee smirked widely at Alyssa. “Oh, sweetie, there’s a runt in every litter- a nobody. And _our_ nobody is Carrie.”

“Okay, great!” Trent cut in. “That was great, guys. We’re now going to be moving onto scene eight, so Barry, Winnie, please get up there with everyone else.”

Winnie and Barry did. 

“Alright… _Scene 8: Fourth Period English Class. Mr. Stephens addresses his unruly class.”_

Everyone got into position on the floor, making it seem like they were in a classroom. Several of the ensemble members were laughing loudly about some joke that had been told, while others looked at videos on their phones. Alyssa was leaning back on her palms and chatting to Kaylee, with Emma’s chin resting on her shoulder, something that sent little lightning bolts of exhilaration rushing through her. Winnie was sitting crisscross a little further away, shoulders hunched on, eyes downcast. When Barry stepped up to them, his presence did little to silence all the noise.

“Okay, okay. Settle down now, people. Settle down.” Barry said. “Now that many of you have been accepted into college, I know you think that you can coast through the rest of the term, but you are sorely mistaken. The abysmally low quality of your assignments this week was only exceeded by Mr. Nolan--”

Nick jumped to his feet and bowed proudly. “Thank you! Thank you very much!”

“--who couldn’t even be bothered to turn one in.” Barry finished. He turned his stern gaze on Nick, who sunk back down to the floor. “I don’t suppose you’d care to offer an explanation.”

Nick pretended to think, then shrugged. “I got nothin’.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Barry said dryly. “And for the record, Mr. Nolan, it’s ‘I haven’t got _anything._ ’”

“You ain’t got nothin’, neither?!” Nick cried.

While people laughed, Barry went on. “There is, however, one ray of light. One composition that touched me with the authenticity of its emotion. I’d like that person to recite his work for the rest of you.” He turned to Emma, smiling. “Tommy Ross.”

“Yay, Tammy-Boy! Way to go!” Nick cheered loudly.

Barry whipped around to him. “One more word out of you, Mr. Nolan, and you can repeat this class for the third time, which, God knows, is one more time than either of us can survive.” He looked back at Emma. “Tommy--”

Emma shifted. “Do I have to?”

“Yep.” Barry pushed a blank paper into her hands. “Stand, please, and read your poem.”

Kyle cheered her on. “Go, Cap!”

Emma laughed slightly as she stood up. “Shut up.” She said to him good-naturedly. She then took a deep breath. “‘Dreamer in Disguise’ by Tommy Ross.”

“Oh my god,” Nick snorted.

Emma shot him a glare, then went on, “An eagle’s just another bird until he can spread his wings.”

Noah jumped to his feet and flapped his arms like a bird. “SQUAWK! SQUAWK!”

“Hey, guys, c’mon!” Barry barked. “Freddy, that looks like a plane, not a bird. Now shut up.”

Before Emma could continue, however, Trent jumped in. “We’re going to skip over the actual Dreamer in Disguise and just go to Mr. Stephens’s next line.”

Alyssa really wished they hadn’t. She so badly wanted to hear Emma sing. Emma refused to when Alyssa asked her, saying she wanted it to “be a surprise.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Barry said. “Alright, class,” He turned to them. “Comments?”

Marcus raised his hand, but Noah kicked his chair. He lowered it. Barry sighed heavily.

“Well, don’t all raise your hands at once.” Barry said. He genuinely sounded like a tired, underpaid teacher. Alyssa wondered if he was one in another life. “Come on, anyone. Anyone at all?”  
Nobody said anything.

And then--

“Beautiful…”

All at once, as if they were all controlled on one singular puppet string, everyone twisted around to face Winnie. The young redhead was still hunched in her spot, looking down again. She seemed to be trying to make it seem like she hadn’t said anything.

Barry looked pleasantly surprised. “Carrie White!” He said. If nobody else had realized that Winnie had spoken, _now_ they certainly did from the way he yelled her character’s name. “Excellent! Stand up, please, Carrie, and share your thoughts with the class.”

Winnie tensed. “It was beautiful. Just beautiful.”

“‘Beautiful?’” Nick echoed. “Like, ‘oh, beautiful, for amber waves of _gay_ ’?” He snickered. “Nice on, Period Girl!”

Everyone laughed. Winnie’s cheeks turned red.

“Shut up, Billy,” Emma growled.

“Go on, Carrie,” Barry urged. “How did the poem speak to you?”  
Winnie stood up reluctantly. She hesitated for a long moment, looking all around at everyone, and Alyssa couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not. Finally, she began to stutter out, “I think… I-I think it says that just because something--or somebody-- _seems_ one way, i-it doesn’t mean it _is_ that way.”

There was a pause for a moment. Then, scornfully, Kaylee snorted, “And _I_ think I’m gonna hurl.”

Everyone laughed as the bell rang. The “bell” was actually OJ just loudly going “RING RING RING!!!” really loudly because he had begged Trent to let him do it until they started using actual sound effects. Everyone stood up and began collecting their imaginary belongings.

“Quiz next time, class,” Barry called after them as everyone began scattering. “If I were you, I’d brush up on your _Mody Dick_ \--” Nick laughed loudly as he was walking away. “--the book, not the movie. Now get out of here.”

Alyssa hung back, eyeing Winnie, who was cleaning up slowly. Hayden called over to her.

“C’mon, Sue!” The girl urged. “We’ve got a Prom Committee meeting!”

“Start without me,” Alyssa said to her. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Hayden shrugged. “You got it.” She walked away.

Alyssa slowly approached Winnie, dimly aware that she was walking up to her as if she were a wild animal. Kaylee hung around, watching curiously.

“Hi, Carrie,” Alyssa said, ducking her head to try and catch Winnie’s lowered gaze. “That was nice--really nice--what you said about Tommy’s poem. I thought it was beautiful, too.”

Winnie didn’t say anything. She didn’t even look up at her, just fidgeted with her sleeves.

“Look, umm about yesterday--” Alyssa faltered. It was so damn hard to talk to someone who wouldn’t even look at you--and that wasn’t just a feeling from her character. Winnie never seemed to make direct eye contact with anyone, as if she were afraid she would be turned to stone if she did. “What happened… I don’t know, things just sort of got out of control, and I just wanted you to know--”

Winnie glanced up, around her, and seemed to spot Kaylee. She raised her head, but there was very little fire in her eyes as there should have been for the scene.

“Haven’t you had enough?!” Winnie growled, but the anger came out squeaky and like a lamb’s bleat. “Do you think you can just go on tricking me forever?!”

She turned and stormed away.

“More emotion, Winnie!” Trent yelled after her.

“Sorry!” Winnie squeaked, sounding ashamed.

Before Alyssa could go one with the scene, Nick piped up snarkily, “ _God_ , our Carrie _sucks ass_.”

Winnie flinched and pulled her arms around herself, looking down. 

“Nick. Be quiet.” Trent snapped. “There’s no need for that.”

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking,” Nick said innocently.

“Doesn’t mean you _have_ to say it,” Emma spoke up. “I mean, none of us have called you out for your shitty acting, even though it’s blindingly obvious that you probably don’t deserve to be in this show.”

Nick rounded on her, eyes like smoldering coals. “What did you say, lezzie?” He growled lowly.

Emma stood up straight, not backing down to him. “ _You heard me._ ”

“Well, at least I know how to fucking look at people,” Nick said. “ _She_ won’t raise her head for _anyone._ Like, why bother even trying out for a musical if you don’t even have the damn balls to do it? Who casts someone with anxiety and very obvious stage fright as the lead?”   
Although his words were harsh and needlessly cruel, Alyssa found herself kind of agreeing with Nick.

Winnie had never shown any ounce of courage while she was there, full stop- she stammered and stumbled, she ducked her head, talked to your shoes rather than to your face. She misunderstood, got the confused-timid look as if everything was an attempt to trick her or trap her, so pathetic that it made you want to pinch her, poke her, shove her, do anything at all in fact, anything if it made her angry, anything to stop her from looking so weak. 

But she was weak. As Alyssa saw time and time again, usually on accident on Winnie’s part, she was fragile- she was hurt, and with every cringing sideways glance, Alyssa felt more and more like this girl shouldn’t be there with them. She was quiet, didn’t know how to properly articulate her thoughts without doubting herself and apologizing mere seconds after speaking, and had enough anxiety to fill the entirety of NYC. 

But if she weren’t _brilliant_. She was intelligent and very well-mannered, despite barely ever speaking any words that weren’t her lines. She never argued over anything requested of her, always followed Trent’s directions, and was quick to correct herself to the best of her ability. She had power in her voice, she got into the musical for a reason, she was just too scared to let that part of her out.

Still. It was beginning to get irritating. Alyssa was starting to worry about how the show would do if their Carrie couldn’t even get the courage to exhibit proper emotions for her character.

“Give her a break,” Angie spoke, sounding angry. Her eyes were narrowed dangerously at Nick, daring him to say one thing wrong. Alyssa didn’t doubt her ability to kick him to death with her powerful legs. “She’s just a kid.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Her age isn’t an excuse. If anything, it proves my point even more. Child actors are never any good.”

“She’s better than you,” Now Dee Dee had joined in. 

Nick snorted. “Yeah right.”

“It’s true,” Barry agreed. “I mean, she _is_ the lead.”

“Probably because she cried or something and Trent gave it to her out of pity,” Nick brushed him off.

“I assure you that is not how it works,” Dee Dee said. “Directors aren’t like that. And it’s not like _you_ got the lead, so it just goes to show that she _is_ better than you.”

“I’m a guy!” Nick said.

“And Emma is a girl, but she still got a male role,” Dee Dee said breezily. “Unlike you.”

Nick growled lowly and clenched his fists. “Alright, you old bat--”

“What did you say to me?” Dee Dee snarled, towering over him. “You’re all talk. The only pathetic one here is you and your deplorable excuse for acting.”

“Say that to my face,” Nick fumed.

“I am,” Dee Dee said. “Or am I saying it to your ass? It’s easy to get the two mixed up.”

An uproar of “OOOH”’s exploded throughout the green room. Several people looked incredibly entertained and intrigued, craving a fight to break out. Alyssa would admit that she certainly wouldn’t mind watching Dee Dee Allen beat the shit out of Nick.

“Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” Bee yelled.

“Hey. Hey!” A voice spoke, sharp yet calming at the same time. Trent pushed his way between Dee Dee and Nick, parting them before they could attack each other. “That’s enough.”

“But she-!!”

“I know, Nick,” Trent sighed. “Dee Dee did something and made you angry and you lashed out even though you started the fight in the first place. I’m sure Winnie, the cause of this stupidity, is very infuriating.” He then peered at Winnie like he was trying to find something sinister in her soft, lamb-like features.

“Let them fight!” Kay spoke from her spot. “It builds character!”

Trent furrowed his eyebrows at her, then shook his head. “These petty quarrels need to stop today. You guys can’t be fighting anymore. We’re a family now, and we all need to stick together if we want things to work out.”

Everyone nodded silently.

Trent turned to the duo that had been fighting. “Dee Dee, take a deep breath; we’ll talk later. Nick, walk with me.” He set a hand on Nick’s shoulder and firmly guided him out of the green room.

“Asshole,” Dee Dee muttered underneath her breath. She glared at the doorway that Nick exited out of, then shook her head and walked over to Winnie, who was hunched against the wall, looking anxious over the argument. Alyssa momentarily heard Winnie apologize before she went over to Emma.

“That was _very_ attractive,” Alyssa said to her.

Emma smiled at her slightly, but still looked pissed off. “I am glad you think so,” She said. “That damn bitch.”

“You okay?” Alyssa gently touched her shoulder.

“I hate bullies,” Emma said.

Alyssa lowered her tone. “Because of what happened?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah. I can’t stand people who pick on others. I know how it feels, and it sucks.”

“You’re like a knight in shining armor,” Alyssa said, nudging her, hoping to make her smile more, and it worked. She even laughed a little.

“Hell yeah I am.”

After around five minutes, Trent and Nick came back inside. Nick had to trudge over to Winnie and swallow his pride to apologize to her, which Winnie accepted meekly. Rehearsals started up again shortly after, but Alyssa noticed that Dee Dee glared at Nick for the remainder of the practice.

Despite the confrontation, Winnie’s acting only got slightly better.


	5. Something's In The Air

**Emma**

When the third week of rehearsals began, singing and dancing started with it. Emma remembered going into the theater that day, dressed in a tank top and leggings, loaded with several water bottles. And she was glad she dragged so many with her because the first thing Trent said to them when he came in was, “I hope you’re all ready to sweat. Things are about to get tough!”

And he was  _ right. _

They ended up spending an entire day simply learning the steps to “In”, which was daunting in and of itself. The choreographer, Olivia Keating, seemed to have an unlimited amount of patience with them, no matter how many times they messed up or ran into each other. And they messed up and ran into each other  _ a lot. _

It started out easy at first. After Sue “Alyssa” Snell would transition from the interrogation into the song, Alyssa would get up from her chair and try to escape the rest of the cast when they would come out and approach her, only to be shoved around and then circled. Once Alyssa started singing with them, changing her demeanor from scared to casual and cool, they all simply stood around and sang. But once they started moving again, quickly passing by one another and switching spots, they began bumping into one another and sending each other stumbling out of position and sometimes into someone else.

After the confrontation with Miss Gardener aka Angie, all the girls went off to do an incredibly fast quick change into gym clothes, while the boys and Emma stayed on for their portion of the song. Olivia had them do a mock fight, and Nick somehow managed to pull off a spin kick several times, which Emma had to admit was rather impressive.

After the quick change (which Alyssa said was frantic and sometimes very messy), the girls were instructed to do choreography that resembled stretches, then got an instrumental portion to pantomime playing volleyball, which was when Winnie finally entered the scene.

It was tiring, and it certainly wasn’t easy, but they got the hang of it the longer they practiced.

After “In” was finally down, they moved onto the next songs. Winnie looked mortified when she finally had to get up and sing for everyone. To be honest, Emma wasn’t expecting much from the girl. At the very least, she thought she was just going to sound like a bleating baby lamb, and so she braced herself for the resulting secondhand embarrassment from Winnie’s first performance.

That being said, Winnie effortlessly pulling off the first high note in “Carrie” was enough to make Emma’s jaw drop in shock.

Winnie’s singing was…good. Like,  _ actually good. Really  _ good, even, much to Emma’s surprise. She had been awaiting a voice crack or a shrill, nasally croak, not  _ this.  _

Winnie’s singing voice was high pitched and youthful. It was feathery and frail, yet powerful at the same time from the way she was able to articulate the lyrics and hold the notes so well. There were cracks and squeaks, but they somehow came out sounding so natural, not disrupting the song when they happened.

_ Now  _ Emma was starting to see how this nervous wreck had gotten cast.

When the rest of the cast joined “Carrie”, they were instructed to sometimes interfere with Winnie, like shoving her around and knocking her belongings out of her hands. Aside from her mandatory reactions to the treatment, Winnie never broke character while in song, no matter how hard she was pushed or knocked around. She seemed to be completely in the zone with singing, and Emma was starting to take back all her doubts with the girl.

And then, something happened.

On the third day of song rehearsals, after finishing up “Open Your Heart”, the cast moved onto “And Eve Was Weak.” Winnie looked more nervous than usual when she stepped up with Dee Dee to begin. 

“Okay, so this song is interesting,” Trent said. “It’s a lot less dancing and a lot more handsy with how much Carrie gets roughed up. We’re going for a very shocking performance with this one. I want to really show off how brutal Margaret truly is. It’s going to be very hands on.”

Winnie swallowed thickly.

“Whenever you two are ready, you may begin,” Trent said. “Start from ‘Mama, I started to bleed’ and go from there.”

Dee Dee and Winnie got into position in front of each other. The pianist began to play a low, menacing tune.

“Mama, I started to bleed, and the other girls, they laughed at me and called me names, and I was so  _ scared _ .” Winnie said. She noticed Dee Dee’s horror-struck expression and her brows twitched together slightly. “Mama, why are you looking at me like that?”

Lowly, Dee Dee whispered, “The Curse of Blood…” She rushed to retrieve a Bible from off of the table they were using for several scenes.

“Mama, you’re frightening me,” Winnie said warily.

“Bow your head and pray, woman,” Dee Dee ordered, and Winnie dropped down to her knees in an instant. She flipped to a page in her Bible and shoved it into Winnie’s face. She began to read from it, “‘And God made Eve from the rib of Adam. And Eve was weak and loosed the raven on the world.’”

“Mama, it wasn’t my fault!” Winnie whimpered, sounding desperate and scared.

“‘And the raven was called Sin,’” Dee Dee went on, ignoring her. “‘So God visited Eve with a Curse, and the Curse was the Curse of Blood.’” She shoved Winnie’s head, nearly making the girl topple over. “ _ Say it, woman! _ ”

Winnie whimpered softly. Dee Dee’s expression became more menacing, eyes darkening like a lunar eclipse. Her tone went from a zealous command to a low, dangerous hum.

“ _ And God made Eve from Adam’s rib and Eve was weak, _ ” Dee Dee began to sing. “ _ And Eve was weak… _ ”

“Mama, how could I know?” Winnie looked up at her.

“ _ And Eve was weak, and Eve was weak… _ ”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Winnie sounded desperate, now.

__ “ _ And God made Eve to bear the curse, the Curse of Blood… _ ”

__ “It’s not a curse! Miss Gardener said it’s something all girls go through!”

__ “ _ The Curse of Blood, the Curse of Blood… _ ”

Winnie suddenly leapt to her feet, eyes now alit. “You should have told me!” __

And then Dee Dee slapped her upside the face.

Winnie spiraled back down to the ground in a whirl of red and yellow, while Dee Dee yelled above her, “You’re a woman now! Pray to heaven for your wicked soul!  _ The Raven came to plague the world, its name was Sin _ .”

But Winnie didn’t say her next line. It wasn’t even that it was delayed, she simply didn’t say it at all. She just crouched there on her hands and knees, one hand cupping her bright red cheek. The wide-eyed expression on her face portrayed more emotion than in any of the rehearsals combined.

“Winnie?” Dee Dee whispered down to her, but Winnie didn’t move.

“Winnie? Are you alright?” Trent tried, but Winnie still didn’t move. She didn’t react, either. It was like she was off in her own little world. 

“Girl got slapped silly,” Hayden joked.

“Winnie?” Trent tried again, slightly louder this time.

Winnie blinked once, then shot to her feet and began rushing out of the green room with a frantic, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

The green room was left in silence.

“Well, that happened,” Christy said helpfully.

Everyone had to wait while Winnie was out. Nobody went after her, thinking she just needed some time alone for whatever reason, so everyone took to doing their own thing as they waited.

Alyssa nudged Emma, and Emma looked at her. “Yes?”

“You free this evening?” Alyssa asked her.

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me out?” 

“Maybe,” Alyssa said breezily. “Well?”

Emma couldn’t help her wide grin. “Yes, I am free.”

“Wonderful,” Alyssa said. “I know this spaghetti recipe you’re going to love.”

They continued to chatter about their plans for another ten minutes. When the conversation momentarily dipped, Emma realized Winnie had yet to return.

Something was very, very wrong.

Now, believe it or not, despite her outward persona, Emma knew what boundaries and personal space were. And she knew when to not bother another girl. There were several cases of when you shouldn’t bother a woman: when she was breastfeeding, when she was on her period, when she was pregnant, when she was being cheated on- but especially when she was in pain and it was making her aggressive.

It was, in a weird sort of way, like the time she found a stray cat on her family’s property when she was younger. She had cornered the frightened little thing and it arched its spine and hissed at her to stay back, but she was desperate for a pet, so she grabbed for it anyway. Naturally, she got scratched and that night, as her mother was cleaning the cuts, she was told to never approach a scared, cornered animal. It made them more likely to lash out, but if you waited and let them know you weren’t a threat, then they may calm down. And Emma, despite the disdain she now felt for her mother, had used that advice since then, and she still used it with other people when something was wrong with them.

Except right now, though. Because Winnie had been in the ‘bathroom’ for half an hour and absolutely no one was batting an eye. Emma knew the girl was more likely to die and turn into a skeleton before anyone decided they wanted to check on her, so she excused herself from the game of Statues that Hayden had started and walked out with Alyssa tagging along at her side.

“God, where is she?” Emma wondered out loud as they were searching the back rooms of the theater. The place was huge; Winnie could be anywhere.

“I don’t know,” Alyssa answered her, even though it wasn’t really necessary. Of course she didn’t know where Winnie was, or else they would be done with this and moving on already.

“She needs to learn to not run off,” Emma said. “We’re kind of on a damn time limit here. Opening night is in two weeks.”

“Cut her some slack, Em,” Alyssa nudged her lightly. “She freaked out.” 

“She’s always freaking out!” Emma argued. “She’s-- Ugh.” She shook her head.

And as if to prove her point, there was a weak sniffle from nearby. Emma and Alyssa both turned to see Winnie huddled underneath the nearby staircase, knees pulled to her chest, shaking and breathing heavily.

She seemed to be having a panic attack.

“Fuck,” Emma hissed underneath her breath as Alyssa raced over to the girl. She quickly followed.

“Winnie? Winnie, can you hear me?” Alyssa called out to Winnie. “It’s Alyssa and Emma. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

Winnie didn’t react. Her eyes were shiny and blank. Maybe she wasn’t even hearing what Alyssa was saying.

“Winnie? Guinevere. Guinevere, it’s okay.”

Nothing.

“Guinevere? Really?” Emma commented. “Maybe stick with her nickname, Lys.”

“Okay, okay, let’s see… Winnie, honey…”

Winnie’s eyes flicked over for a split second.

“Honey,” Alyssa said again. “Honey, it’s okay. Can you hear me? Nod to me if you can hear me.”

A few seconds passed, but then Winnie’s head bobbed a little. Alyssa smiled slightly, inching closer.

“Good, good. That’s very good, Winnie.” Alyssa said. “Think you can try breathing with me? You need to breathe.”

Winnie opened her eyes a little more and took in a shuddering breath, but it wasn’t enough. She curled up further, coughing as her chest seemed to constrict in resistance.

“Hurts!” Winnie choked out.

“I know, honey, I know,” Alyssa said sadly. “But you have to.”

Winnie shook her head with a tight-throated whine. Emma commended Alyssa for her patience; she probably would have clobbered consciousness back into Winnie by now.

“Winnie, please,” Alyssa said. “You need to breathe.”

“C-can’t…” Winnie somehow managed to force out. “H-hurts…” She suddenly teetered forward and collapsed into Alyssa’s lap. 

“Winnie,” Alyssa said, slightly more panicked. She flipped Winnie over and cradled her carefully, “Sweetie, please. You have to breathe.”

Winnie mumbled something incomprehensible. 

Emma didn’t know what to do. She was never the comforting type, rather always the one in need of comfort. All she could do was sit by and watch a kid practically suffocate in Alyssa’s arms.

Gently, Alyssa pressed Winnie’s head to her chest so she could listen to her heartbeat. She held her there for a moment, still whispering breathing techniques that she was sure weren’t working. Winnie whimpered again, weaker this time.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Alyssa soothed her, brushing her fingers through Winnie’s hair and over the shell of her ear. Winnie fell silent, listening to Alyssa’s breathing and tried to match her own to it. 

“I’m-- I’m s-sorry--”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart,” Alyssa said, gently brushing her fingers over the girl’s tear-stained cheeks. “You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

Emma begged to differ.

Alyssa’s hand moved to rest on the side of Winnie’s torso, just below her breasts, which she made sure not to touch. “Breathe in. Ready?”

Winnie tried to follow, but she struggled badly, and Emma realized it must have been from oxygen starvation. Winnie wasn’t getting enough air and her body was punishing her for it. 

“Hurts…!”

Alyssa lifted the girl’s chin so they were making eye contact and she frowned at how glazed over the grey eyes were. She moved her other hand to support the back of Winnie’s skull, ready to catch or even cradle her if needed.

“I know, Winnie, I know,” She murmured sadly, “Can you try again? Breathe in,” A hopeful smile cracked on her lips when she heard Winnie take in a ragged breath. “That’s very good, sweetie.”

The praise seemed to help because, slowly but surely, Winnie was starting to breathe normally. She ended up curled up in Alyssa’s arms, who held her gently, but protectively like a mother bird guarding her chicks. 

Emma said nothing during the whole ordeal. She tried not to think about the bite of jealousy that nipped at her while she watched this all go down.

What did it take for a girl to be held like that?

Eventually, Winnie’s breathing had completely settled down. Alyssa lifted her arm from around her shoulders and looked down at her.

“Feeling better?” Alyssa asked.

Winnie nodded shyly. “S-sorry,” She stammered. “I don’t know what came over me…”

“It’s alright,” Alyssa assured her, even though Emma sort of felt the opposite. If the kid couldn’t handle getting slapped, she should have said something beforehand.

“What happened, anyway?” Emma asked, unable to quell her curiosity. “Surely you knew you were going to be hit. Dee Dee wouldn’t have done so if you had just told her.”

Winnie winced as if she had been hit again. She tentatively touched the place where she had been slapped, which was still red--though, that may have just been the flush from crying. 

“Emma,” Alyssa hissed, elbowing her lightly.

“No, she’s right,” Winnie said. “I-I should have said something. It just happened so fast and…” She shook her head. “I’m fine now. I wanna keep the slap in. It makes it more shocking.”

“But if it makes you have panic attacks--”

Winnie shook her head again, cutting Alyssa off. “It was just a one-time thing. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Alyssa exchanged a concerned look with Emma, then nodded. “Alright… Can you stand up? We should probably get back to practice.”

Winnie nodded and slowly rose to her feet. Alyssa steadied her, and Emma felt the bite of jealousy again. Maybe she should have panic attacks again to get touched by Alyssa like that… 

“Thank you,” Winnie said. “This-- you doing this-- it means a lot to me.”

Alyssa smiled at her warmly. “We’re friends, Winnie. Of course we’ll help you.”

Winnie’s eyes widened, then lit up like fireworks. “We’re…friends?”

Alyssa tilted her head. “Yeah, of course.” She said. “Is that alright?”

“Yes! Yes!” Winnie said energetically. “Of course it is! I’m-- I’m so happy we’re friends.”

Alyssa rubbed her head. “Me too. You’re a good kid.”

_ Who’s stealing my lady…  _ Emma thought bitterly. 

Was she getting jealous over a fifteen year old who was too young to date Alyssa? Yes, absolutely. 

Would the age gap dispel that jealousy? No, absolutely not.

She needed to do something to steal Alyssa’s heart before it was too late.

* * *

Before Emma went to Alyssa’s apartment, she stopped by the store to grab her favorite white wine, wanting to impress Alyssa.  And while there, Emma could have spotted her from a mile away- Winnie stuck out like a sore thumb in the makeup section of the grocery store.

It was almost painful to watch. Winnie’s hand slipped several times and streaked shiny black lines over the top of her eyelids. There was even a moment where she accidentally poked herself in the eye and recoiled in pain. Emma barely managed to muffle a laugh.

A few people were starting to stare. Two small children were giggling over the spectacle. A woman nearby looking through a selection of eye shadow watched Winnie with an absolutely dismayed expression, like she couldn’t believe any girl in this day and age didn’t know how to properly apply makeup. Emma rolled her eyes. Gender expectations.

Winnie’s head swiveled around and she looked like a deer in headlights when she finally noticed Emma standing there. Emma gave her a smile as a truce gesture of sorts and stepped out of the aisle she had been going through. She walked over, setting various items in the basket she was holding. Winnie eyed her warily, poised and ready to run.

“Hey,” Emma greeted casually.

“H-hi,” Winnie replied in a squeaky voice. The overhead lights made her pale skin look very pasty, and the sheen of messy black makeup coating her eyelashes only stuck out even more. She was trying very hard not to look at Emma, but her eyes kept trailing over to her anyway.

“You come here often?” Emma asked. Over Winnie’s shoulder, she noticed a trio of juniors gliding out from the next aisle over and stopping to ogle her and Winnie. She shot them a severe look and they moved on, muttering to each other.

“N-no,” Winnie answered. She jammed the lid of the mascara back onto the capsule and set it back on the small rack of makeup that was used for testing the colors. Although, they weren’t meant to actually be put on, rather just the wrist or example board provided off to the side. Winnie didn’t seem to know that, though. She was making it seem like this was the first time ever being in the makeup section of a store.

There was an awkward beat of silence between the two of them. Winnie was looking through the other selections of mascara, but it was obvious she was watching Emma out of the corner of her eye. Emma wondered why she was so untrustworthy around her out in public like this. Well, it wasn’t like they were too-too close in the theater, either.

“Getting ready for the play?” Emma asked.

“Mhm,” Winnie nodded, plucking up some ruby red lipstick. “There’s a lot of makeup at my house, but my mom doesn’t like me using her things, so I’m getting my own. I mean, I have my own, but they’re all mostly used because of my siblings.”

“I get that,” Emma nodded. “Wait, but I thought you were the oldest in your family?”

“I am,” Winnie said. “But I still get their things, so.” She shrugged.

“Ah,” Emma said. 

“I don’t like any of these,” Winnie sighed. She put the lipstick down. “Maybe I shouldn’t get any at all? I mean, Carrie doesn’t seem like the type to wear makeup.”

“That’s true,” Emma nodded.

Winnie walked over to the clothing area of the store. Emma tilted her head slightly and watched as she beelined for a teal shirt, running her hands over it and rubbing it between her fingers. She turned away after a moment of feeling, going to a darker aquamarine shade, then orange, then purple, and then magenta. Both Emma and a woman nearby watched her process in a vaguely interested way.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked.

“Looking,” Winnie replied distractedly. She felt some black mesh tights and instantly ripped her hand away with an expression of pure disgust. Emma couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t like that?”

“It’s too scratchy.” Winnie said, shaking her hands in the air as if she were trying to erase the feeling of mesh against her skin. “Do people really wear that? What kind of self-respecting person would put that on?” She touched some fishnets next and recoiled like she had been burned, looking even more appalled. Emma laughed again.

“Some people do, yes,” She said. “It’s kind of a gothic look.” 

“It’s awful.” Winnie stated firmly. She tugged off a waterfall of sunflower yellow fabric from the wall, which turned out to be a dress, and it all came tumbling down onto her. She tottered backwards, nearly collapsing under the weight of the outfit, then steadied herself and held it to her chest. She inspected it for a moment, then began putting the dress back onto its hook, much neater than it had been before. 

“So…” Emma said idly, watching Winnie dart over to another rack of clothes. She had never seen the girl’s eyes shine so much before. It was like she was in textile heaven. “Have you picked out your costume yet? Trent said we needed to start thinking about what we wanted to wear or else he would choose for us, and I don’t think that’s a fate anyone should have to suffer. No offense to him.”

“That’s what I’m doing right now,” Winnie replied after a brief moment of hesitation. She unraveled a pair of light blue jeans, took one look at them, then wrapped them back up and put them back on their shelf. “But I found a style for Carrie that I really like.”

“Ooh, really? What color is everything?” Emma asked interestedly. She hoped the small talk wasn’t as awkward as she thought it was.

“I can’t decide,” Winnie said, holding a sleeve of saffron and azure, and wrinkling her nose at the way it contrasted with her pale skin. “I’m trying to figure out that now, too.”

“Well,” Emma quickly started again, pouncing on an opportunity that lit up inside of her like a light bulb. She would definitely get some brownie points for this one. “I don’t know if you want to, but maybe we can do a little fashion show? Alyssa and I were talking about maybe doing a little fashion show with all of our costume ideas at some point.”

Winnie tensed, hands freezing in their process of sliding over a crimson red shirt. She stared at it for a long moment, then pulled away, shaking her fingers out like they had blood on them.

“I don’t know if I want to do that,” She mumbled.

“Oh--”

Emma blinked stupidly, looking like a brain dead cow. She didn’t know why she had been expecting Winnie to say yes. Perhaps it was because the girl didn’t exactly look like the type to be able to say no to people. Now she just felt bad for seemingly pressuring Winnie into the hangout session.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Winnie assured her. “Don’t take it personally. I just-- I want this to be a surprise.”

“Oh! Yeah, I get that!”

Winnie didn’t hear her comment, however, because she had already darted to another rack. Her eyes were wide and glowing, and Emma realized she was looking at a forest green cardigan. Carefully, like she thought it may disintegrate in her hands, Winnie picked up the bulk and held it close to her chest, staring up with a dreamy, wistful expression.

That had to be the one.

“It’s so pretty,” Winnie murmured as Emma walked over, running her hand up and down the surface of the fabric. There was a smile ghosting over her lips.

“It is.” Emma agreed. The shade of green really fit well with Winnie’s pale complexion, red hair, and icy eyes. Especially her hair. “You’re gonna look great, I’m sure of it.” Then, idly, as she fiddled with the edge of some scratchy white cotton shirt, “I’m really glad you’re in the musical with us.”

Winnie paused her process of thoroughly caressing the cardigan and blinked at Emma in bright confusion. “Really?”

Emma blinked back at her. “Uhh-- Yeah.”

“I mean--” Winnie’s eyebrows knitted together, and Emma only now realized they were lighter red instead of thick red like her hair. “I get it, I do, and don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy that you said that, it makes me feel good, but-- really? You never made it seem that way before.”

Emma opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Winnie tilted her head at her.

“I know it’s a weird thing to bring up right now, but it’s really been on my mind.” Winnie said. “It’s not your fault, of course. I’m kinda strange.” 

Emma sucked in a sharp breath, but released it softly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other woman in the area listening with great intrigue, but was pretending to look through some clothes to make it seem like she wasn’t.

“I want to be friends with you,” Winnie said, looking up at her.

“We are,” Emma said without thinking.

“We are?” Winnie echoed.

“We are,” Emma nodded.

Winnie smiled softly. “I’m glad.”

* * *

Alyssa’s apartment was very cozy, yet simple at the same time. There was a small laundry room in the front hallway, then the living and dining room and kitchen through the same corridor. There were four other doors: an extra room, a guest bathroom, the porch/balcony, and then the master bedroom. Most of the drawers, cabinets, end tables, and shelves were covered in picture frames, potted plants, and glass antiques. A candle that smelled of vanilla and roasted nuts flickered quietly on the kitchen counter.

“Well?” Alyssa turned to Emma. “What do you think?”

“Hmm…” Emma examined the place like she was on one of those house hunting shows. “I expected it to be more regal. I mean, you are a queen, after all.”

Alyssa barked a laugh. “Oh, honey. This is New York. This is as regal as it gets.”

Damn. Did this woman never get flustered?!

“I’ve already started dinner,” Alyssa said, nodding to the two pots on the stove. “Would you like anything to drink while you wait?”

“Oh, I actually brought something,” Emma took the bottle of wine out of the bag she was holding. “Ta-daa!”

Alyssa walked over from behind the kitchen counter and took it into her hands delicately. 

“It’s not a bird egg, Lys,” Emma teased.

“Hsst,” Alyssa nudged her. “I once dropped a bottle of wine and I have yet to recover from it. It looked like a bloodbath!” She read the label. “Far Niente Chardonnay? I don’t think I’ve had this one before.”

“It’s really good,” Emma said. “I think you’ll like it.”  _ Please like it. _

Alyssa nodded and set it on the counter. “We shall see,” She said. “We can have some when the food is done. For the aesthetic. Want anything else?”

Emma shook her head. “No, I’m good. Ooh, a cat!!”

A white cat with cream paws, nose, tail, and ears strolled out of the master bedroom as if it were an elegant lioness. A purple bell collar around its neck jingled softly with every step. It walked over to Emma and rubbed against her leg. Emma pet it back eagerly.

“You have a CAT?” Emma said excitedly.

Alyssa chuckled. “You say that like cats are a rare pet to have.”

“Well, you never mentioned you have any pets!” Emma said. “They’re so cute! What’s its name?”

“Tea Cake,” Alyssa said, a tinge of pride in her voice. 

“Aww!” 

Tea Cake purred loudly as Emma pet her. She meowed when she heard the crinkle of a bag and ran into the kitchen as Alyssa poured some food into the pet bowls. Emma sat down at one of the three bar stools at the counter, watching her. She couldn’t take her eyes off of her. She wondered if this dinner date meant anything…

Emma thought back to her old “friend.” The experience never drove her away from the idea of sex, just made her slightly nervous. Like right now. She knew Alyssa would never hurt her like that, at least she hoped, but still…

She set her hands on her lower stomach below the counter, where Alyssa couldn’t see.

_ Don’t think about it. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about what he told you and what he wanted to do to you. Don’t think about how he said you would look so beautiful in your school clothes while swelling with his-- _

A hand, cool and gentle, touched her shoulder. Emma drew in a sharp breath and blinked away the memories. In front of her, Alyssa looked worried.

“Emma?” Alyssa’s voice was soft and caring, like the one she had used with Winnie. Maybe now was Emma’s chance to be taken care of! “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Emma considered feigning a panic attack just to get Alyssa’s attention, but decided that wasn’t the best idea, especially if Alyssa found out she was faking it. She could get into the woman’s arms a different way, but she kept the idea in the Idea Box just in case. 

“I know,” Emma said. “Sorry about that. I’m good.”

Alyssa’s worried expression did not go away. She really did look like a mother hen. Emma made a note to tease her about it later.

“Are you sure?” Alyssa asked. “You look a little pale.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I promise.” Emma answered her. 

Alyssa pursed her lips, analyzing her for several seconds, then nodded. “Alright. But I’m keeping my eye on you, missy.”

Emma laughed slightly. “Got it, Nurse Alyssa.” She winked. “I await your help.”

Alyssa chuckled endearingly. Still no blush, though. Emma vowed to make her flustered soon.

The two of them chatted like close friends as Alyssa made spaghetti. Emma joked about the choice of food, relating them to Lady and The Tramp, to which Alyssa said, “Does that make you the trash dog?” 

Emma then replied with a shrill, “HEY!!”

Alyssa laughed. “Sorry, sorry. I had to.”

Not that Emma minded, though. Being teased by Alyssa felt like a blessing.

“So…” Emma started up a new conversation. She glanced to the side, to a picture frame sitting on the counter. Alyssa and a strict-looking woman were smiling and hugging in the photo. “Is this you and your coach?”

Alyssa looked at the photo, then burst into laughter. “Emma, that’s my mom.”

Emma’s ears turned red. “O-oh.”

Alyssa continued to laugh. It was a truly wonderful sound. “My COACH?”

“Sorry!” Emma yelped. “I just thought-- She doesn’t look like-- I didn’t--”

“Is it because she’s white?” Alyssa raised an eyebrow at her.

Emma slouched shamefully in her chair. “Yeah…”

Another laugh. Alyssa even snorted a little. “It’s alright,” She assured her. “We got that a lot, actually.”

“Really?”

Alyssa nodded. “Yeah, people assumed I was adopted all the time. Some lady even once had the AUDACITY to ask why my mom adopted me instead of a ‘normal white child.’”

Emma’s jaw dropped open. “No way.”

“Yes way!” Alyssa said. “My mom got PISSED. She yelled at this woman so loudly that it ECHOED throughout the store we were. She called her OUT, no shame whatsoever.” She smiled at the memory. “God, I felt so loved. It was amazing.” She shook her head. “But yeah, that’s my mom and we’re blood related. It would probably be less confusing if we had pictures of my dad.”

_ That _ sparked Emma’s interest. Being the nosy little gremlin she was, she prodded, “Is he alive?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Alyssa shrugged. She didn’t seem bothered by discussing this topic. “He left when I was born.”

“Oh,” Emma felt bad for asking, but Alyssa didn’t appear to mind. “I’m sorry. For bringing it up and, you know…”

“No worries,” Alyssa assured her. “I never really cared. I mean, it would have been nice to have a father around, but my mom was enough for me. We took care of each other.” She was smiling again. Her smile was so beautiful.

“Sounds like you and your mom are close,” Emma said.

“We are,” Alyssa nodded. She turned her smile onto Emma, and Emma’s heart flapped like a gleeful baby bird learning to fly for the first time. “Maybe you could meet her sometime.”

Emma was blushing again, which meant another point for Alyssa. At this rate, she was never going to catch up to her score.

“I-I’d really like that,” Emma stammered.

“Wonderful.”

When dinner was finished, Alyssa made them both bowls, poured them glasses of the white wine Emma bought, and they sat at her dinner table. Emma decided that it was the best spaghetti she had ever tasted, and not just because it was made by the woman she was madly in love with.

When the dinner was over, a new conversation was sparked between them.

“Oh, by the way, have you seen my parka? I thought I wore it around you before, but…” 

“Nooo…”

“You have it, don’t you?”

Emma smirked at her from where she was waiting on the couch. Alyssa had suggested they watched a movie. Now surely  _ that  _ meant something.

“Stealing from me again, Emma?” Alyssa teased. “First my heart, now my jackets, what’s next?”

Emma craned her neck around, a hand resting under her chin as she calmly replied, “Your last name.”

Alyssa paused and her smile gradually fell, settling into a more neutral expression that worried Emma increasingly as the seconds passed. Just as Emma shot up to her feet, her eyes scared that she had pushed the limits of their relationship too far, and was about to ask if she’d said something wrong, Alyssa began to raise her right arm to cover her face. Nervous laughter bubbled up in Alyssa’s throat and Emma saw that the tips of her ears were an alarming shade of red.

Holy shit.

She totally won.

Usually it was Alyssa who made Emma into a flustered mess, never the other way around! She had never made Alyssa get like this before!

Emma perked up ecstatically, her eyes brightening. “This means I won, right? I knew I would get you flustered one day! Ha!!” She threw both arms up into the air victoriously.

After a few seconds passed, Emma moved over to Alyssa, still glowing in her victory. She peered up at her co-star and could see her eyes in their contrasting but warm shades, fighting an unidentifiable emotion. A muffled, weak chuckle was punctuated by the flush staining Alyssa’s cheeks an (in Emma’s opinion) illegally adorable pink.

“Damn you, Emma Nolan,” Alyssa muttered, just loud enough for her to hear, the nervous smile on her face making her look all the cuter. All because of her.

Emma’s heart buzzed, sang, melted within her chest, and she came to the realization that she didn’t think she would ever fall this far in love again.

“I win.” Emma smirked, and whatever else she was going to say was cut off when she was suddenly lifted by Alyssa. She yelped and flung her arms around the woman’s neck, grappling onto the collar of her shirt.  _ Damn  _ Alyssa was strong. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“You may have won once,” Alyssa said, grinning mischievously, her flustered weakness fading away. “But I’m still the queen when it comes to making people flustered.” The grin turned into a smirk, “You would know that.”

Emma half yelped, half laughed when Alyssa swung around and carried her to the bedroom, where she was promptly dropped onto the bed. She looked up at Alyssa, eyes wide. Holy shit.  _ This  _ definitely meant  _ something. _

“I think I love you,” Emma sputtered out. Now would be the best time to confess, right?

Alyssa chuckled. “You think? Honey, I could tell from the moment I met you. I knew there was a reason why you came up to me during auditions.” She winked.

“Damn.” Emma said. “So much for subtlety.”

“Can I kiss you?”

The request came out of nowhere. Emma nodded eagerly.

Before she could regain her bearings from the shock of the question, soft, warm lips were on hers and she melted into the kiss with a muffled hum. Alyssa’s hand cupped the back of her head, stroking her fingers through her thick dirty blonde hair and sending sparks down her spinal cord.

“You need to wash your hair,” Was the first thing Alyssa said after pulling away.

Emma pouted below her and playfully shoved the woman, only to be bombarded by another heated kiss. This time, she wrapped her arms around Alyssa’s back, pulling her closer as her need for love and affection made her desperate for Alyssa’s lips and touch.

“Okay, okay,” Emma panted, finally having to pull back, “You win, you win!”

Alyssa laughed and opted to pepper Emma’s cheek and neck with soft kisses. 

“I thought you were a singer?” Alyssa teased. “You need to learn to hold your breath longer.”

Emma shoved her playfully. “You-- shut up!!”

“You are too cute,” Alyssa mused.

“Maybe that’s because I’m staring at someone I’m in love with?” Emma said, grinning up at her. “I just… I know I’m probably going super fast, but I just love you so, so much…holy shit…” She breathed.

Alyssa laughed softly and laid down next to Emma, pressing her lips back against her soft neck and kissing and nipping gently. Emma wanted to stay like this forever.

“Don’t get sappy on me.” Alyssa teased.

“I’m not on you,” Emma said, then clambered onto Alyssa’s body, straddling her hips. “Now I am.” She reclined forward like a puppy desperate for affection and rested her chin on Alyssa’s chest (but not without Alyssa loudly saying, “Emma, that’s MY BOOB!” when her jaw accidentally pressed onto her co-star’s left breast, which caused Alyssa to laugh loudly and Emma to snap her neck back so fast she probably could have given herself whiplash).

“I think I’d die for you…” Emma whispered, closing her eyes and feeling Alyssa’s hand snake up to the back of her head, stroking her hair gently. “I don’t know how to tell you how much I love you…but I do. I do so much.”

She tried, she truly tried to express it through words, but still it fell short. It wasn’t surprising, but it was frustrating.

It was only then that she realized she was shaking and her vision was blurry. She blinked and more tears rolled down her cheeks to replace the ones Alyssa had just brushed away.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Alyssa murmured, reaching up to cup Emma’s cheeks. “Talk to me, princess. What’s wrong?”

“Happy tears.” Emma sobbed, “They’re happy tears because you’re warm and here and I finally have someone and I just love you more than I have ever or will ever love anything.”

She dropped her head down onto Alyssa’s chest, relishing the steady beat of her heart. She felt one of Alyssa’s hands slide down to her back and rub up and down her spine, carefully massaging some of the more tense areas.

“You’re everything.” Emma muttered, closing her eyes. “My co-star or not, I would give you the moon. For you, I would tear down the sun and use it to smite God itself like it was my…sword or something.” Her nose wrinkled at her weird choice of smitten words.

A strangled laugh left Alyssa’s throat.

“Please don’t.”

Emma looked up to see Alyssa’s eyes glistening. She perked up, her own glossy eyes widening. Her hands are immediately rushing to wipe away a stray tear, and Alyssa leaned into her touch, laughing softly again.

“Don’t cry!” Emma said, worried. “I’m sorry. You can’t cry, too!”

Alyssa laughed once more and cupped Emma’s cheeks, pulling her into a kiss. Her thumbs rubbed against Emma’s cheekbones before one hand returned to her back to massage through the shirt she was wearing.

“You’re perfect,” Alyssa whispered after they both pulled away. “I love you so much, princess.”

“Princess,” Emma hummed. “That’s the second time you’ve called me that. It’s new.”

“Well, you’re certainly pretty enough to be one,” Alyssa said, then smirked. “But I’m still the queen, as you have stated.”

“Wouldn’t that imply I’m your daughter?”

“I did not think of that.”

They both erupted into laughter.

Emma leaned down again, snuggling against Alyssa’s chest. She closed her eyes, letting out a loving sigh.

“Thank you,” She murmured.

“You’re welcome,” Alyssa’s voice was like silk. “Now…how about we forget the movie for something a little more…entertaining?”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat in excitement. “A-absolutely.”

* * *

“I-I made you cookies!”

The first thing the next day, a platter of lumpy, cinnamon-sprinkled cookies covered in a thin plastic wrapping was held up to Emma and Alyssa. Emma glanced at them, then at the nervous but excited girl offering the treats to the two of them, then took one. Alyssa did the same, smiling.

“Thank you, Winnie,” Alyssa said. She took a bite, Emma doing the same, and Winnie clenched her fingers around the plate expectantly.

The cookies were a tad too salty and a little hard, but good nonetheless. 

That was the last anyone in the cast saw Winnie for four days.


	6. Crackerjack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sympathetic criers beware, this one's a doozy

**Winnie**

Winnie didn’t show up for rehearsals for the next four days. Nobody knew where she went or where she was, but it sparked an immediate panic throughout the cast. The show was getting closer and closer and the lead performer was nowhere to be found.

She eventually showed up on Saturday, eleven days before opening night. She came in late, arms bundled with clothing, a muted look in her eyes, but a small smile on her face. She vividly remembered everyone stopping and whirling around to her when she called out, “Surprise!”

Trent was the first one to get to her. He grappled onto her and began inspecting her like he was expecting her to be gutted and gored.

“Are you okay? What happened? Where were you? ARE YOU OKAY?” The director spewed out.

Winnie actually laughed lightly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” She shifted slightly. “Sorry about what happened. I-- something super personal came up and then I did something stupid and my parents grounded me from rehearsing. I still practiced on my own, though! I promise I’m up to date with everything, Mr. Trent. I’m sorry for not being here.”

Trent looked at her, then nodded. “Alright. But you can’t do that again. Try to stay out of trouble for my sake, please.”

Another laugh. “Got it. It won’t happen again!”

Obviously the way she was let off the hook with only a light scolding ruffled a few feathers in the cast. But nobody was more ruffled than Nick.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Nick said.

“What?” Trent looked at him.

“You’re just letting her off like that?” Nick said. “No punishment?”

“She had her reasons.”

“Bullshit!” Nick scoffed. “If she were anyone else, you would have screamed in our faces!”

“I would not have,” Trent said. “Let’s get back to rehearsals. We’re going to take it from the top at--”

“No.”

Trent stared down at Nick. The younger man stalked up to him, challenging the director.

“No?” Trent echoed.

“Nick…” Kaylee muttered cautiously from where she was standing at Alyssa’s side.

“I’m not doing another goddamn thing you say,” Nick clarified, “until you punish that little bitch for potentially costing us the entire show. It’s not fair to anyone else here that she gets the easy treatment from you.”

There was a scattering of murmurs throughout the group. Trent’s expression looked frighteningly calm, but anger was flickering in his eyes. It was kind of scary to see their mellow, laidback director look like this.

“Alright,” Trent said slowly, venom oozing from his lips. “You’re out.”

Nick was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You’re out.” Trent said more firmly. “You will not be performing opening night.”

“No!” Nick yelled. “You can’t do that!”

“I’m the director, I do what I want.”

Nick was floundering. He looked around at everyone else for aid, but the cast all avoided his gaze, fearing the same punishment.

“You-- you can’t--”

“You shouldn’t have talked back to me,” Trent said. “And you definitely shouldn’t have referred to Winnie the way you did.”

“What about this cast being a family?”

Trent looked at him and coldly said, “I don’t want you in my damn family.”

Nick’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, then glared at Winnie and Trent before storming out in a tornado of swears. The distant sound of the front doors banged shut, and Trent sighed heavily, rubbing his face with his hands.

“I am never having children,” Trent said ruefully to himself, then looked up like nothing had happened. “Alright, everyone. Let’s get started again.”

* * *

Greg, Emma’s cousin, ended up replacing Nick. Emma had apparently told Trent that her cousin “could recite the play word-for-word” and that was enough for Trent to give him a chance. And it was a good thing he did because Greg was worlds better than Nick ever was. He caught onto the flow of things very quickly, AND was respectful and funny.

It wasn’t long before things were picked up onto the stage. Before them, a beautiful set was laid out, fit with towering backdrops and incredible balconies and even a little space for the White bungalow. Winnie gave major props to the technical gang, and she hadn’t even seen the extent of everything they had really done just yet.

That day, she saw Emma nudge Alyssa before they started warmups and say, grinning, “Things are about to get real serious, Greene.”

There was definitely something up with them.

* * *

**Prologue: Interrogation Space**

The opening scene Trent created was incredibly detailed when it came to the sound design. There was screaming and crying, police sirens, 911 calls, faint operator voices, car horns, crackling fire, and, above it all, the sound of whimpering and heavy breathing.

It was dark, too. There was a single spotlight on an empty chair, but then even that faded away to total darkness. Shadows were tossed around the backdrop, huge and needle-like. When the light returned, Alyssa would be sitting in the chair and being blinded.

She said it reminded her of the first day of auditions.

* * *

**MUSIC 1: IN**

When “In” actually got up on its feet in a wide open space and not a cramped green room, it was amazing. Winnie was shocked at how in sync they all were, singing and moving as if they were controlled by the same hive mind. The harder she thought about it, the more she realized it reflected the mob mentality all the teenagers developed over the course of the show, collectively jumping on the bandwagon of bullying when they noticed the popular kids were engaging in such an action.

While the boys and any non-binary ensemble members who wanted to be in the male portion of the song were onstage, the backstage was a flurry of whipping fabric and tossing shirts. The quick change was always frantic and rushed because they had approximately nineteen seconds to get dressed, and by the time it was over, the wings looked like the aftermath of a clothing store that just had a tornado rip through its selection of merchandise. Stagehands would skitter around to pick up their fallen clothes and put them on a rack with color-coded coat hangers so everyone could grab what they needed after they changed back. They learned this method of tidiness the hard way after Jess slipped on Elisha’s shorts and damn near went flying.

* * *

**Scene 1: Chamberlain High School**

Winnie felt great anxiety the first time they ran through the period scene with full costumes. She had to be stripped down to just her underwear (she ended up wearing boxers because she said it was less embarrassing) and got to wear only a towel that she had to hold up herself to hide her nudity. She wasn’t allowed to wear a bra because the straps would be able to be seen and could potentially ruin the illusion. Two stagehands would then drip blood down one of her legs and cover her hands in the same fluid. A third stagehand sprayed water all over her hair and shoulders and face to dampen them and make it look like she had just gotten out of the shower. After it was all finished, she would scream and run onstage and pray to God that she didn’t accidentally drop her towel.

The entire period scene was manic and wild. Fog was pumped onto the stage from fog machines, which was supposed to mimic the steam that came from hot showers, and Winnie scrambled through it like a shot deer, panicked and shrill. 

They also finally got to use real pads and tampons instead of random items! Winnie remembered Trent musing to them about how he stood in line at the local grocery store with several different brands of women’s menstrual products. Even though the female cashier hadn’t questioned it, he told them that he still felt obligated to say, “I’m doing a musical. My actresses are going to be throwing these at a bullied teenager.” 

He followed this up by saying that did not make it seem any better. 

Emily had then said, “You know, we could have just brought pads and tampons from our own houses, right? You didn’t have to go out and buy some.”

Trent told her to shut up.

* * *

**MUSIC 2: SHOWER AFTERMATH (UNDERSCORE)**

**Scene 2: Girls’ Locker Room/Guidance Counselor’s Office**

“I love how we’re adults bullying a child,” Kaylee said to Alyssa.

“I am the child,” Winnie piped up from the wings.

“Thank you, Winnie. I had not known that.”

* * *

**MUSIC 3: CARRIE**

**Scene 3: Streets of Chamberlain/Carrie’s Private World**

Winnie’s meek, shy, and incredibly quiet demeanor didn’t reflect the power her voice held at all, and yet her belting was always crisp and clean. Every time she noticed her castmates beginning to doubt her ability to play the lead character, she would open her mouth and sing for them and make them all think otherwise. 

It was cathartic for her, this song. It was comforting in more ways than anyone here would ever know. She always got a certain spark in her eyes because “Carrie” was now more personal to her than just a simple song in a role she managed to snag. 

* * *

**Scene 3A: Interrogation Space**

Winnie didn’t think Alyssa was ever going to get used to that spotlight.

* * *

**Scene 4: Town Park**

Winnie noticed that Alyssa couldn’t take her eyes off of Emma ever since Emma put on her letterman for the first time. She had a feeling what that was about, especially because Emma had not-so-subtle marks on her neck.

Ever since the first incident with the park scene with Nick, Trent steered clear from a direct hands-on approach, but he still pushed for something that would really highlight Billy’s cruelty and pervertedness. They ended up settling on a skirt flip, and Emma’s feigned anger over it was incredibly attractive.

* * *

**MUSIC 4: OPEN YOUR HEART**

**Scene 5: White Bungalow**

“Margaret really out here claiming they ‘need more money’ and yet she’s wearin’ Birkenstocks,” Kay said.

“Shaking my head,” Emily said while shaking her head.

Dee Dee smirked at them, shaking her brown Birkenstock-clad feet beneath the table set piece she was sitting at. “They’re my Jesus slippers.”

“I don’t think Birkenstocks were around in 4 BC Bethelhem,” Barry said.

“Shut up, Barry.”

“Wait, actually, that’s something that’s really been bothering me,” Winnie spoke up. She turned to Dee Dee with a fire in her eyes. “I’m onto you, Margaret, you slippery weasel. I see those things. My mother eats, sleeps, and BREATHES Birkenstocks. I can smell those uncomfortable, mold-soled jerks from a mile away. I can SEE your footprints in them. I know what you’re hiding. I swore my mother had a pair of those exact color but I don’t know for sure because I’m not at home and I’m not allowed in her closet, anyway. I bet you stole them, didn’t you? Well, you doubt my willpower to rat you out, she-devil. I know. I see everything. My quietness makes me watchful. I’m practically invisible. You paid for $99.95 or more shoes that feel more like solid stone than shoes, but you make me, YOUR CHILD, wear CROCS--”

“You said you wanted to wear Crocs?” Trent said.

“--SHH! You make me wear Crocs and these RAGS. You snake. You absolute devil woman. You deserve no rights. Why would you make this purchase if you know you’re poor? You’re single and you work at a laundromat for god’s sake, Margaret, you’re making chump change. You can’t spend your money on freakin’ bitchinstocks. Go to Walmart and get some slippers because at least they would be cheaper and MATCH YOUR GOWN. I may be ace and I may be aro, but at least I know those two colors DO NOT go together. You are pure evil. White and _that color_ ? That _brown_? What were you thinking, woman?! You deserve no rights. I hope the shoe mold harvests every last one of your toes. Rapture is nigh, lady, and I don’t think your feet are prepared for judgement.”

The theater was full of shrieking laughter. 

* * *

**MUSIC 5: AND EVE WAS WEAK**

And Eve Was Weak was a wild ride to simply watch. Dee Dee’s deep, haunting belting mixed with Winnie’s heartbreaking cries and whimpers created a chilling atmosphere throughout the entire song.

Dee Dee _was_ very physical. She slapped Winnie, shoved and threw her around, dragged her across the floor, and even “burned” her. Winnie fled from her wrath like a chicken without its head, jumping over the table that was set up or hiding beneath it, only to be pulled out like she was a limp corpse of a red cow. Sometimes some of the others were concerned that Dee Dee was too rough with her, but ever since her panic attack, Winnie was perfectly fine with the blocking and choreography in the song. If it truly bothered her, she didn’t say anything.

At the same time, however, And Eve Was Weak was fun. She liked the shock value it brought to people watching and she liked startling the others. She especially liked working with Dee Dee, who was a lot less scary once you performed with her several times.

There was one instance where Dee Dee had asked, “Can’t I just, like, scoop her up and carry her into the prayer closet?”

Trent had laughed. “You can try. It’s not going to happen because it’ll kinda ruin the illusion of terror, but I would like to see what you would do.”

And so Dee Dee went through with her idea, throwing Winnie over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes instead of dragging her across the stage. Winnie had not expected the woman to be that strong at all, so it took her by surprise when she had been charged.

In retaliation to this, Winnie wrapped her limbs around Dee Dee like a baby koala. 

“You can’t put me in the closet if you can’t put me down!” She had yelled.

* * *

**Scene 6: Interrogation Space/Chris’ House**

**MUSIC 6: THE WORLD ACCORDING TO CHRIS**

“Mr. Trent?”

“Winnie, you can just call me ‘Trent,’ it’s alright.”

“…Mr. Trent,” Winnie said, lowering her raised hand. “Do I just stay in here for this scene?”

Chuckling, Trent said, “Yes, Winnie. Just stay inside your box. We’ll have the lights down on you.”

“Okay,” Winnie leaned back against the wall of the hand-built prayer closet she had been thrown into. “I like my box.”

Chuckling again, Trent said, “I know, Winnie.”

A side note to that, Winnie got over (her character) being made fun of, eventually. She knew she had to stop taking things that happened to her character too personally.

* * *

**Scene 7: White Bungalow/A Street in Town**

**MUSIC 7: EVENING PRAYERS**

For the telekinetic part of the song, they used threads to make the figurine of Jesus seem to levitate. Winnie once forgot to snap it off of her fingers and the figurine went flying with her hand when she stood up to face Dee Dee.

* * *

**Scene 8: Fourth Period English Class**

**MUSIC 8: DREAMER IN DISGUISE**

When Emma would sing, Winnie noticed that Alyssa looked at her with a sort of starstruck expression, and decided that _that_ was what it was like to be looked at with love.

Winnie also thoroughly enjoyed startling Alyssa when she screamed in her face. It was the little things that made her happy.

* * *

**MUSIC 9: ONCE YOU SEE**

Alyssa had a beautiful voice. Emma made sure to point this out to everyone constantly, but Winnie could have figured it out on her own.

* * *

**Scene 9: Soccer Field/Girls’ Locker Room**

“Okay, my ensemble ladies!” Trent said loudly before the scene began. “I always feel way too bad for background actors because they don’t get enough credit, so you’re all going to be interpreted more into this scene! Angie, before you call out the main cast for the apologies, you’re going to call out the names of our wonderful ensemble characters. So go ahead and choose names.”

“We can pick whatever we want?” Emily asked. There was a look in her eyes that Winnie didn’t like.

“Yup! Whatever you want!” Trent said, blissfully unaware of the sudden dark aura radiating off of the ensemble.

“I want Ophelia,” Kay spoke up first.

“Oooh, very pretty,” Trent said while writing the name on his clipboard.

“I wanna be Julia,” Elisha said.

“Nice, ni--”

“But it’s spelled like Jewel-ea.”

Trent’s gaze slid up from his clipboard. “Wh-what?”

Elisha stared him directly in the eye and said, “I want to be Julia. But it’s spelled like Jewel-ea. J-e-w-e-l-i-a. Jewelia.”

Trent swallowed thickly. “Alright.” He wrote it down with a shaking hand.

“I shall be Madison,” Emily said.

“Okay, that’s a good one--”

“Spelled M-a-d-d-i-s-y-n.”

Trent’s hand was shaking while he wrote it down. “Okay.”

“I’m going to be Zoe!” Christy declared.

“Okay, you can’t mess that up--”

“Spelled Z-o-i-e!” 

“That’s literally just Zoi,” Trent said, his voice wavering.

“I said what I said.”

Trent looked at Jess. Jess looked back at him.

“Lakynn.”

Trent slammed his clipboard into his face.

* * *

**MUSIC 10: UNSUSPECTING HEARTS**

Winnie wasn’t used to being called pretty. It made her head spin, even if it was just recited from a memorized script.

* * *

**MUSIC 10A: TOMMY’S FUTURE (UNDERSCORE)**

**Scene 10: School Library, Other Locales**

**MUSIC 11: DO ME A FAVOR**

Winnie wished Emma wouldn’t sound so disappointed when she agreed to go to Prom with her. 

* * *

**Scene 11: Library Stacks**

**MUSIC 12: TELEKINESIS**

They went with a more mechanical, less-obvious approach to the second scene with telekinesis, using a moving bookshelf and more thread to make Carrie’s powers seem realer.

* * *

**Scene 12: Principal’s Office**

Barry sounded exhausted when he went after Noah.

* * *

**Scene 13: White Bungalow**

**MUSIC 12A: THE INVITATION (UNDERSCORE)**

Winnie liked to pretend that Emma was actually asking her to go to Prom with her. Not in a date sort of way, but as friends. Winnie liked that they were friends.

* * *

**MUSIC 12B: THANK YOU (UNDERSCORE)**

**Scene 14: White Bungalow Dining Room**

**MUSIC 13: ACT I FINALE/I REMEMBER HOW THOSE BOYS COULD DANCE**

“Most productions of _Carrie_ during ‘I Remember How Those Boys Could Dance’: Okay, we really gotta show off Margaret’s vocal range while also showing Carrie’s growing attitude and defiance at the same time. This’ll be great!” Elisha said. “Our director: what if we did incest.”

“DEE DEE AND WINNIE CONSENTED TO THE IDEA!!” Trent yelled.

* * *

 **Scene 15: Interrogation Space/School Courtyard**

**MUSIC 14: ENTR’ACTE**

**MUSIC 15: A NIGHT WE’LL NEVER FORGET**

Winnie liked singing with everyone else. It made her feel a part of things, after everything.

* * *

**Scene 16: Interrogation Space/School Hallway**

Angie getting defensive over her always made Winnie’s heart flutter.

* * *

**Scene 17: Gymnasium**

Winnie had no idea why Linda always got so seductive with Barry.

* * *

**MUSIC 16: YOU SHINE**

Emma and Alyssa always looked so in love when they sang together. Winnie wondered what it was like to be looked upon in such a way.

* * *

**Scene 18: Shadows/Carrie’s Bedroom**

**MUSIC 17: WHY NOT ME?**

The truly was personal to Winnie in more ways than she could express. She hoped her parents got to see her sing it.

* * *

**MUSIC 18: STAY HERE INSTEAD**

**Scene 19: White Bungalow**

A very…interesting take on the song.

* * *

**MUSIC 19: WHEN THERE’S NO ONE**

Winnie didn’t know how to feel about a song about an abuser crying over her daughter and contemplating killing her.

* * *

**Scene 20: The Gym**

**MUSIC 20: PROM ARRIVAL**

It was incredible. Truly incredible, coming together with everyone like she did. 

* * *

**MUSIC 21: UNSUSPECTING HEARTS - REPRISE**

“Trent, may I be gay with Elisha?” Jess asked, her hand raised.

“Sure,” Trent shrugged. 

“Awesome! Thanks!”

“Yeah, no problem! We love to see some inclusivi-- wait, why are you two grinding on each other? THIS IS A SLOW SONG!!”

* * *

**MUSIC 22: DREAMER IN DISGUISE - REPRISE**

Even though she knew Emma would rather sing with Alyssa, Winnie couldn’t help but be in awe at how well they sounded together. She liked setting her head on Emma’s chest while Emma swayed her, making her feel safe and secure, even though it was just an act. She pretended it was real.

* * *

**MUSIC 23: PROM CLIMAX**

Definitely Winnie’s favorite song. She finally got to dance!

* * *

**MUSIC 24: ALMA MATER**

The anticipation killed Winnie every single time she got up onto the coronation area to be crowned.

* * *

**MUSIC 25: THE DESTRUCTION**

Instead of her pink dress, Winnie was in a plain white t-shirt and some sweatpants. At her side, Emma was dressed in a black tux. Winnie knew she preferred to be with Alyssa.

“Billy, pull the damn cord, _pull it_!” Kaylee’s voice sounded from overhead.

There was a creaking of rope, then Winnie was drenched in blood.

It was made of corn starch, corn syrup, soap, and _lots_ of food coloring. Trent wanted her to get _covered_ for the full effect, and it truly did go everywhere. Maybe too much.

As the opening notes of “The Destruction” sounded around the stage, Winnie held up a hand and said, “Hold! Hold, please!”

The music died away and the lights came back on. Winnie felt guilty all over again, especially for halting the most dramatic part of the show, but she couldn’t help it.

“Sorry,” She said. “It’s just-- it’s in my eyes and I can’t see anything. I don’t have anything to clean it up. Sorry.”

Through the haze of red blinding her, she could see her castmates shuffling around the sides of the setup they had for the dump. Trent came up from the house and walked over to her, waving for someone in the wings to grab a rag. 

“Sorry,” Winnie said again, purely out of instinct.

“It’s alright,” Trent assured her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Winnie nodded, and some blood droplets of blood flew from her hair. “I’m okay. It’s just kinda burning my eyes, but it’s not that bad.”

“That’s not good,” Trent said. “Maybe try keeping your head down next time? So it’ll all go down your neck and back and not your face.”

“Okay,” Winnie said as she was handed a rag from a stagehand. She buried her face into it immediately, rubbing the blood out from her eyes. “I will do that next time. Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Trent said. “Whenever you’re ready, let’s take it from the top!”

* * *

**MUSIC 25B: THE DESTRUCTION - PART II**

The Destruction was the most technical part in the entire musical, filled with flashing lights, loud noises, rolling fog, advanced special effects, feigned fire, screaming, and lots and LOTS of death.

One of the best moments, in Winnie’s opinion, was when Trent made the decision to have Billy hung, wanting the villains to have very dramatic deaths. Their director was extra like that.

“Did you guys hear about that one wardrobe malfunction during a school play?” Bee brought up while Greg was being hooked up to the harness they were using for his hanging. 

“No, what happened?” Jess asked, helping one of the other techies tighten all the straps.

“Well, they were doing a hanging scene, as we are doing now, and apparently the harness broke or something because the kid started to _actually hang_.” Bee explained.

Alex’s jaw dropped. “No way!”

“Yes way!” 

“Did he, like, die?” Kay asked.

“Uhh, yeah!” Bee said with a slight laugh.

“Hmm, let’s see, do you die when you’re hung?” Elisha snickered. “I thought it was a reinvigorating experience!”

“Shut up!” Kay barked.

“I’m pretty sure you mean ‘hanged,’” OJ piped up.

“Be quiet,” Elisha hissed.

“ANYWAY!” Bee said loudly. “Nobody knew he was dead until after the scene because they just thought his struggling and stillness was just acting.”

Christy shivered. “That sounds awful,” She said. “Imagine getting into a school play and inviting your whole family to come watch you and then you _fucking die_.”

“His parents were probably waiting out in the lobby with flowers afterwards, waiting to congratulate him, and then someone had to go out and tell them that not only he was dead, but they also watched him die without any knowledge,” Emily said. “Probably got videos of it and everything.”

“That makes it even worse!” Christy yelped.

“But it gets better,” Bee said. “Err-- worse. This isn’t a good thing. But you wanna know the catch of the whole thing?”

They all leaned in.

“He was an understudy,” Bee said. “The kid who was supposed to go on got sick and couldn’t perform, so this guy went on for him and died because of it.”

“I am feeling a little unsafe,” Greg said from in his harness.

“You’re going to be just fine, Greg,” Trent assured him. “This is perfectly safe.”

“I bet that kid thought the same thing,” Elisha said.

“NOT HELPING!” Greg shrieked.

* * *

**Scene 21: White Bungalow/Shadows**

**MUSIC 26: CARRIE - REPRISE**

Trent had Dee Dee slit Winnie’s throat. He was extra like that.

* * *

**MUSIC 27: EPILOGUE**

Playing dead was a lot harder than it looked. Winnie once accidentally sneezed, which prompted Alyssa to scream, as Sue, “CARRIE?!”

* * *

By the end of one of the final rehearsals, Winnie was both physically and mentally exhausted, but invigorated at the same time. Four more days until opening night. Four more days until she could prove her worth to her family.

She was so enthralled with the thought that she didn’t notice the man waiting in her dressing room for her.

Nick’s expression was twisted in hatred for her. In a way, Winnie didn’t blame him for the way he looked at her. 

“What do you want?” Winnie asked as the door shut.

“To show you something,” Nick said. He took out his phone and set it on the makeup table, then backed away. Winnie eyed him warily, then walked over and picked the phone up.

“Go through the videos.” Nick said, so she did.

She wished she didn’t.

It wasn’t what the video showed, but rather, what it played. Voices. The voices of her castmates. Voices that were berating _her._

_“Where the fuck is she? Why isn’t Trent losing it yet? This isn’t fair. He would get mad at any of us.”_

_“She can’t even speak properly… How did she even get cast in the first place?”_

_“She’s going to ruin the whole show…”_

_“I told her I was her friend, but I barely even know the kid. There isn’t anything to even get to know. All she seems to feel is anxiety. How am I supposed to like that?”_

The last one was Emma, and that was probably hurt the worst. There were a lot with Emma and Alyssa, actually. The two people who were meant to be her friends. Liars.

Winnie had thought she felt awful when her parents had punished her, but this was just as bad. And it only got worse when she turned to Nick to ask if what they were saying was true and something cold and razor sharp slipped into the soft, yielding flesh of her shoulder like hot butter.

For a moment, Winnie didn’t feel anything at all. She didn’t even register the pain as pain for several long minutes. The blood from her shoulder felt no different from the blood already on her. Maybe there was no difference at all. Maybe the blood from the blood dump had been real all along and not just some thick miasma of corn syrup and soap and food coloring. Maybe it was all one big joke on her like she had been fearing.

And then, she saw Nick, and there was a knife in his left hand. It was dripping with blood. Her blood. He looked panicked.

“Fuck!” He yelled. “You weren’t supposed to-- I was only going to--” 

She wanted to ask what he meant, why he had a knife, why her shoulder hurt, but she couldn’t. She was shaking so hard (when had she started shaking…?) that her teeth clacked together, and then the tip of her tongue got caught. Her mouth filled with blood again, like from the blood dump, but this time it was _real._ It didn’t taste like syrupy soap, it tasted like _metal_ , and that made her stomach churn.

She threw up on the floor.

“You--” Her voice was but a breathy, weak whisper. When she looked up at him, her mouth was drooling with pale, watery vomit. “You stabbed me.”

Nick dropped the knife. He looked more scared than she was. The pain was starting to settle in. It was hard to breathe. Had he punctured a lung?

“I didn’t mean to,” Nick said, backing away. “I was only trying to scare you.”

“You stabbed me,” Winnie said again. It was the only thing she could process properly. Nothing else felt real. Everything was shifting and sliding away.

Wasn’t there a bundle of three major arteries that ran through the shoulder? What were their names again?

Now Winnie could feel the blood. Despite how hard the technical team tried to mimic it, they could not truly replicate the true feeling of real blood with the concoction they had created for the show. This was much hotter than the copied version from the bucket, and it had a much more distinct smell to it, too. And taste.

This was _real._

The door to her dressing room suddenly banged open with force. Foster was striding in, yelling, “WINNIE!!! TRENT NEEDS Y--” And then they stopped and drank in the scene with eyes that got wider and wider as the seconds ticked by.

It may have almost looked normal, maybe. To regular eyes, the blood just looked like the blood from the blood dump (you had to be the one bleeding to truly know the difference). And maybe Winnie on her knees could just have been from her slipping. But there was Nick and the pool of vomit and the knife on the floor and-- _“OH MY GOD!!!”_

Winnie found herself flinching at Foster’s volume. She realized how amplified sound was. Had it always been that way? How long had everything been all echoey, as if she were in a cave?

“She’s-- Winnie’s-- Guys--” Foster was stumbling over their words. They were stumbling over their feet, too, as they scrambled from the doorway and back out into the hall, screaming like _they_ had been the one to be hurt as they went. “NICK FUCKING STABBED WINNIE!!!”

 _That_ broke down any remaining illusion that had been floating in front of Winnie’s mind.

She had been _stabbed._

In an instant, the dressing room was full of people. Trent was there, wide-eyed. Dee Dee and Angie were next, but then Dee Dee wasn’t there because she sprinted at Nick so fast that Winnie lost focus of her for a moment. Others like Alyssa and Emma and Kaylee and some of the ensemble were next, all stricken with horror and alarm.

Then, Alyssa was there, hovering in front of her. Winnie blinked up at her. 

“I think I’m hurt,” Winnie whispered hoarsely.

Alyssa pushed her down onto her back and she wanted to ask her to please don’t do that, she didn't like being shoved around, but she suddenly couldn't speak. Hands closed around the area right below her collarbone on her right side, and blood gushed between shaking fingers.

“Okay, o-okay,” Alyssa stammered. She sounded so scared. Alyssa was _never_ scared. She was always so courageous and mature and fearless. It felt wrong to see her like this.

Was her wound really that bad?

“You’re going to be alright, Winnie,” Alyssa said to her. “You’re going to be alright, sweetie. It’s going to be okay.”

“Someone call 911!” Angie’s voice cut through the building din of panic. _Almost like a knife,_ Winnie’s hazy mind somehow managed to joke.

Angie was now there by her side, and Winnie looked at her through clouded eyes. Why was her vision so hazy? Had she already lost that much blood? 

Was she going to bleed to death? 

And, more importantly: was bleeding to death really that _bad_?

If those videos were true… If that was really what everyone thought about her… 

Angie touched her shoulder, and Winnie flinched away with a cry. Up until that moment, even after Alyssa put her hands on her, the pain had been dull and achy, but now it felt like someone was reaching into her flesh and pulling out all of her tendons with their nails. 

Angie pulled her hand away fast, as if she had touched fire. There were spots of blood on her fingertips, and Winnie apologized for getting her dirty, then realized she hadn’t spoken at all. Her mouth wasn’t even open. 

“It’s her shoulder,” Alyssa said to Angie. 

“I need something to stop the bleeding,” Angie said. Who was she talking to? Winnie didn’t know who she was talking to. There were too many people in this room. Her brain felt scratchy. “Someone give me something!”

For a moment, nobody listened, so Angie yelled it again and someone complied. Jess handed her a blue shirt that was hanging up on a silver clothing rack in the corner, then used the chance to steal a glance at Winnie’s state. She looked sickened by all the blood and quickly keeled away.

“Move,” Angie told Alyssa, and Alyssa obeyed without question.

The sudden loss of tension on her shoulder brought forth a rush of coldness to her wound, as if the fiery maw had been blown by a chilling winter wind. Then, the pressure returned, and Winnie managed a soft hiss when the shirt was pressed firmly against the gash. The skin was tender, like a really bad bruise, and she wanted to ask Angie to please stop, but she still couldn’t speak. She didn’t even know if she had her tongue anymore. Did Nick cut that out, too?

The pandemonium in the dressing room was turning into a full-on hurricane. Dee Dee was on top of Nick, screaming death threats in his face and wringing her hands around his neck, while Barry tried to pull her off. Trent was on the phone with emergency services. Several ensemble members were yelling over each other, demanding to know what happened. Alyssa had backed away into Emma’s arms, both of their bulging eyes on the gleaming blood staining Alyssa’s hands. It hurt to simply look over at them, in more ways than one.

They _lied to her._

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Dee Dee roared into the bludgeoned face of Nick, and her voice ricocheted like thunder throughout Winnie’s skull, making her instinctively flinch. “I will KILL YOU! That’s a kid you hurt, and you crossed the line there, you disgusting bastard _FREAK! YOU CROSSED THE LINE!!”_

“Dee Dee, that’s enough! He’s had enough!” Barry yelled over her, trying to pull her off, but Winnie could somehow tell that his efforts were halfhearted. 

Winnie didn’t offer to help. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even speak. Every breath felt like an assault on her lungs, like a second knife slicing through her airways. She wanted to stop existing, and every rush of fresh, life-giving air to her chest was a cruel reminder that she couldn’t.

Now she remembered the name of those arteries.

Winnie sluggishly turned her head to Angie. Angie looked back at her and brushed some hair out of her face. Her hand came back red- redder than before. She was still soaked. The paramedics were certainly going to be in for a shock.

“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart,” Angie told her. Her voice was low and soft, worlds away from the hysteria reverberating all around them. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I want my mom,” Winnie said, but no words came out of her mouth. Her throat felt unnaturally dry. She still didn’t know if she had a tongue. She looked around the floor, but couldn’t see it on the ground anywhere. Maybe it was still in her mouth after all? But why couldn’t she speak?

“Help is on the way,” Angie went on.

The ambulance was going to cost so much money. Her parents would be furious. 

It took a long time for the emergency services to arrive, but that was to be expected in New York City. As Winnie had expected, the trio of paramedics looked alarmed by the amount of blood, but Angie quickly clarified, “It’s not real. Not the stuff on her hair and back, at least. We’re in a musical. _Carrie._ We did a blood dump. It’s fake.”

The paramedics nodded, but they didn’t seem any less concerned. Especially when they shifted their gaze to Nick, who had been beaten within an inch of his life. Dee Dee’s knuckles and nails were smeared in blood.

Angie helped Winnie down to the ambulance. Nick had to be put on the stretcher. Every step she took sent shockwaves from her legs, up to her shoulder, and exploded outwards like a firework, but the pain was fuzzy and distant. _Everything_ was fuzzy and distant. Nothing felt real.

She knew people didn’t like her, but enough to stab her… 

The emergency room was noisy and crowded, and she could sense people eyeing her uneasily, whispering about her, as they took in her bloodsoaked clothing. Her stab wound wasn’t classified as an emergency, despite the ambulance ride and potential artery-severing, so she had to wait out in the waiting room, though that was the American healthcare system for you. The shirt Angie was pressing to her shoulder was now thick and pulpy and smelled strongly of blood. It had been blue, once. Winnie wondered if it would smell like anything else ever again.

She wondered if _she_ would smell like anything else ever again.

Eyes kept sliding over to her. She could hear whispers, but was unable to completely make out what they were saying. Definitely something about all the blood. Maybe something about Angie Dickinson being in their vicinity. Another something about theories over what happened. Winnie couldn’t keep up.

Not that any of the people in the waiting room had any right to stare at her, though. There were others in pretty rough shape in there, too- a sick young man in the corner that looked like he regretted every decision he had ever made in his entire life; a teenager that looked like he _didn’t_ regret every decision he had ever made in his entire life, but definitely wished he hadn’t gone with a stick-and-poke method of getting a tattoo; a quiet-looking girl who stared at the white walls around her with wide eyes and also had her right arm horribly limp at her side; someone whose jaw was unhinged like a snake…there were enough characters in this place to make an entire circus, and yet _she_ was the clown to them.

Angie said things about recovery and recuperation, about scarring and shock. Winnie turned her head up to her, and it was like her neck was coated in molasses. Her mouth tasted of blood and bile and fear.

Angie looked back down at her, lips pursed, eyebrows knitted together. She said to “hold this,” then lifted Winnie’s left hand to press the shirt to her shoulder. She got up, and Winnie expected her to never come back after becoming fed up with playing caretaker, but then she returned with a paper cup full of bitter black coffee. She emptied some packets of sugar and little plastic tubs of cream into it. When it was set into Winnie’s hands, she sipped it obediently.

Now she could taste coffee, along with vomit.

It did not help.

When her name was called, she didn’t even register it. Angie had to urge her up and into one of the backrooms. It was bright white and smelled clean, just like the rest of this place. 

The nurse asked if Angie was a relative, and Angie said she was her cousin. Winnie didn’t say anything about the lie. She wouldn’t even if she could speak.

“Guinevere Thompson? And you’re fifteen?”

It was a question, but she couldn’t even bring herself to nod. It was as if she was deep, deep down at the bottom of a black pit, and people were shouting questions and remarks high, high above her. Perhaps if she really tried, she could be heard, but really, it all felt very far away and irrelevant when you were this far down.

She and the pit were good friends, long before Nick had put the knife in her shoulder. She had gotten used to being ignored. It was the normal for her at this point.

“Yes, she is. But she goes by Winnie.”

Angie had answered for her, and the nurse frowned.

“Can she talk?”

“She’s in shock.”

The nurse looked even more troubled. Winnie tried to shrink away, to hunch her shoulders in the way she usually did when people got looks like that on their faces, but the pain restricted her from doing so. It felt like silver needles bristling through her skin. She tried not to whimper.

“Can you tell me what happened to you?” The nurse asked.

She blinked. What happened to her? Where to begin?

_Well, when I started Kindergarten… Well, when I was born… Well, when my parents put me in the…_

“She was stabbed,” Angie cut in again. “The man who was brought in was the one who attacked her.”

“Do you know why?” The nurse looked at Angie.

“Not exactly, but I have my theories,” Angie said. “We’re in a musical. _Carrie._ The man--Nick--got thrown out after repeatedly harassing Winnie. My guess is that he was getting payback for being fired, though he tried to claim he was just ‘trying to scare her.’ Whatever that meant.” She moved closer to Winnie, protective.

The nurse pursed her lips. “I see. And I assume he got beaten out of retaliation?”

“Yes,” Angie nodded. “Not by Winnie, though. By one of our co-stars. She saved her from getting hurt even more.”

That wasn’t true, Winnie didn’t think Nick was going to pursue his assault on her, especially since he dropped his knife, but she didn’t argue. Angie was probably just trying to keep Dee Dee from getting arrested. 

But Dee Dee had just been defending her! She did what was needed when confronted with an attacker! It was self-defense! They couldn’t fault her for that, right?

Right?

“She’s going to need stitches,” The nurse said. “I’m going to administer the antibiotics now.”

Somehow, despite the shock and pain, Winnie still managed to feel the strings of fire that suddenly shot up her arm. She flinched and looked down to find a thin tube in her arm. The nurse gave her a small, sympathetic smile.

“You’re going to be already, honey,” The nurse told her, and Winnie wished she could believe her.

Something cold rushed through the IV, and suddenly the fire burning through Winnie’s upper body was extinguished. Every breath she took stopped feeling like a direct attack on her lungs. She almost, _almost_ relaxed.

And then the nurse tugged down her sleeve and brandished a shiny needle and thread and the shirt used to stem the bleeding was removed. 

It was her first time actually seeing the wound. It was a lot smaller than she expected, lying just underneath her collarbone, maybe three to three and a half inches in length. The edges were cleanly cut, bearing no tears or rips, which Winnie had to hand it to Nick for. At least he was nice enough to not wrench the knife once he put it inside of her. The mouth of the laceration was a deep, dark red, so dark it could almost pass as a shade of black. 

Winnie didn’t know exactly how many stitches she ended up getting. She lost count after three. It was hard to focus when she felt the uncomfortable friction of a thread sliding through her flesh. It was worse than the needle puncturing her tender skin in a way, at least to her.

“All done. These should heal up in nine to ten days.”

“So she’ll be okay?”

“Yes, she will be. Luckily, it was a clean cut, no real lethal damage. There may be some bruising and definite soreness, but as long as she takes it easy, she’ll make a full recovery.”

She was used to being talked about as if she couldn’t hear, as if she couldn’t talk- her siblings did it the most, insulting her and talking about something stupid she did while she was right there beside them, but other people did it, too. Other family members, mainly teenagers, sometimes adults, even a few of her castmates on a couple of occasions, but this was the first time she had ever not minded. The way they spoke about her, like she was something fragile and needed to be cared for, was comforting. It shielded her. 

After the nurse left, there was more waiting. By then, her shirt and sweatpants had dried, stiff, rough, still slightly sticky. Her hair was stuck together, tacky and gluey. Angie apologized for not having thought to bring her something to change into when there had been so many clothes in the dressing room. Winnie shrugged. She wasn’t used to people apologizing to her. She didn’t know how to respond even if she could speak.

More coffee. A bag of stale chips from the vending machine sat in her lap, untouched. Her mouth already tasted gross as is.

Doctors came in and out. Angie had to explain the source of all the “blood” more than once. Nick was brought up at some point, something about a broken jaw, broken nose, many bruises, scratch marks. Winnie tried to ignore _that_ before she started feeling guilty about it, too.

Someone else came in, said her parents weren’t answering, which meant they weren’t coming. Winnie knew how this went. Winnie knew how her parents were. Even with her bleeding and injured, they did not go to her. 

“She can stay with me.”

Angie’s offer shocked Winnie, even in her daze. She looked up at the woman, blinking.

The doctor nodded. “Alright. Please try to keep getting in touch with her parents.”

“I will.” Angie then looked down at her, set a hand on her head. “Is that alright, Winnie?”

Did it matter? She never got a choice, anyway.

She nodded.

* * *

The receptionist in the lobby of Angie’s apartment building just about fainted when he saw her.

It had been a mostly silent drive from the hospital to the complex. Every so often, Angie would look at her sideways and ask if she was sure she was okay to stay with her “until things were sorted out.”

The first time, she’d managed to muster up the energy to turn to look at her properly, to decipher the question, the way she’d learnt to. What was she really being asked? Was this like “Weren’t you paying attention, Guinevere?” Or more like “What the fuck are you looking at, retard?” Was she meant to say yes or no or nothing at all?

She had settled for nothing- the safest option (usually), since it generally resulted in rolling eyes, twitching lips, and irritation rather than anger.

But Angie didn’t look irritated. She did look worried, though, like the way Winnie would fantasize her mother looking. She pretended Angie was Mary, and it made things slightly less awkward. But, at the same time, maybe that was why she couldn’t bring herself to talk.

Maybe Angie just needed to fill up the air with words, the way some people did. Winnie wasn’t one of those people and never had been, but she didn’t mind the talking too much. Angie’s voice was nice, really, really nice, so she let it wash over her like soothing white noise.

They drove.

She realized after a while that she was thirsty and the need felt obscene. Nick was still in the hospital, the show was potentially cancelled three days before opening night, everyone was panicked, and she was _thirsty_ . She was covered in blood, both fake and real, the bandage around her inner right elbow from where the IV had been was uncomfortably tight, and she was thirsty. She was being driven into the unknown and she was _thirsty_.

She felt sickened with herself, but it was alright. She’d been thirsty before, recently, actually, when her parents put her into the--

“Here we are.”

It still felt _wrong._

Angie unclipped her own seatbelt, then Winnie’s, and _that_ made Winnie guilty and ashamed, too. She was fifteen years old, damnit! She should at least be able to do basic things like unbuckle a seatbelt!

And yet, when she had first gotten into the car (which Barry had driven to the hospital for them), she had somehow gotten it snagged and Angie had to do that for her, too.

“Come on, sweetie,” Angie urged her gently. “Let’s get inside.”

They went inside. That was where the receptionist saw them, and he became as white as a ghost. A few others in the lobby also whipped around, shocked, and Winnie realized all the blood was probably more acceptable in the context of the hospital.

“A-Angie--” The receptionist sputtered out, unable to look away from Winnie.

“Evening, Reginald,” Angie said as she glided past the front desk with Winnie in tow. She clicked a shiny button and they stepped into an even shinier elevator.

The ride up to the tenth floor was even more awkward than the car ride. Winnie felt like she had to say something, so she opened her mouth and said, “Miss Angie, I want my mom.”

But, like before, nothing came out. It was like her body _knew_ that asking for her mother would be no use, so it was sparing her from that disappointment.

“I have a spare room, so you’ll have some space,” Angie said as she unlocked one of the many doors in the hallway they stepped out into. They went inside, and it was much larger and fancier than Winnie had been expecting when the light turned on. “The bathroom is just here.”

They paused between two identical doors, and Angie nudged them both open- one showed white tiles, the other, a single bed with the bedspread pulled up and tucked tight under puffy pillows.

Angie ushered them both into the bedroom, went to sit on the bed, on the chintzy coverlet--and then stopped. They had both sort of stopped seeing the bloodied rags Winnie wore, but now they seemed very, _very_ out of place and very, _very_ dirty.

“You…must want to get cleaned up.”

They dipped into the bathroom (there was a door that connected it to the guest room), and it smelled like apples. Not the fresh, crisp kind from aging trees in an orchard, but the sweet, faintly chemical scent of apple-fragranced products. It was the scent of bath bombs and body wash and, in this case, no tears baby shampoo. 

Angie turned on the shower for her and adjusted the temperature.

“Leave your things in the sink,” Angie said, not really looking at Winnie, but that was okay. Winnie was used to that. “I’ll go see what I can find for you to wear. They may be a little big on you, though.”

Winnie made herself nod.

“Shout if you need anything at all,” Angie said, sounding slightly nervous. Winnie didn’t blame her for not wanting to leave her alone. 

With a parting touch on her cheek, Angie walked out of the bathroom. 

For a long moment, Winnie just stood like a statue. Then, turning her head to the large mirror stretched out over the counter, staring at her petrified gaze, pale lips, and heavily-swathed right shoulder, she was shocked by her defeated appearance. The expression in her own eyes frightened her. They were so blank, so dead--what had happened to her?

Tentatively, she touched her shoulder, and it was tingly and hot beneath her fingertips. It almost reminded her of TV static. However, it was starting to get sore, too. She was going to need painkillers soon, but she wouldn’t dare to ask for any while in the house of another person. Her parent’s words, not so long ago spoken, echoed through her head-- _if you ask, the answer is no._

It wasn’t that she particularly enjoyed living to meet the brutal couple’s standards. As harsh as they were, they taught her discipline and respect. Her mind and body would always cling to that way of living. How could it not? It wasn’t as though she had ever known any differently.

After a moment, Winnie tore her gaze away from her reflection and climbed into the shower, clothes and all.

The water was way too hot, but she didn’t bother turning the cold nozzle. She melted into the heat, sucking in a sharp breath and easing her lungs. When she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, she saw that the water around her was tainted a light red color. She splashed her face, thinking maybe she was just seeing things, but then she looked down at her hands and saw how stained they were.

She had been hoping it wasn’t real, that it was just all in her imagination, but something about seeing the blood now wet on her hands cemented it all as true.

It was true.

It all really happened.

Winnie’s breathing began to pick up to the point where her lungs begged for air. She turned her hands over, staring at the palms and then the backs. Blood trailed lazily over the knuckles. She couldn’t tell if it was the real kind or the fake kind anymore. At this point, there was no difference at all.

“No--” She gasped, though it wasn’t really a word, not really. It was more of a sound uttered out from a strangled throat. She splashed her face again, wetting the blood and making it run down into her eyes and over her cheeks. “No, no, no--”

She splashed and splashed and splashed, then began to scrub and scrub and scrub when she realized just how stained her shoulders and chest were. Her hands smeared the blood into awful shapes, so she hooked her nails into claws and began scratching viciously until even more blood was drawn out. The entire process was messy and clumsy and had her weeping out loud like a lamb that had lost its mother. 

Where was her mother?

Winnie dunked her head under the spray of water and held it there, clawing her nails through her hair. The locks were stiff and dried with blood and released clouds of crimson through the bathtub when scoured so roughly. The natural red color didn’t come back easily and she nearly drowned herself trying to get all the blood out.

Winnie hugged her knees and rocked back and forth, sloshing the red water around her. Her skin stung from the heat, her shoulder was starting to burn from the incessant scratching, but she didn’t care. She found that she wasn’t caring about a lot of things at that moment.

Sickened, watching the blood run down the drain, she wondered if this was what Carrie felt like when she got her first period.

Winnie whimpered. She thought shock was starting to set back in--but shouldn’t it have gone away a long time ago? She didn’t know, but she was dazed, so she curled up on the floor of the shower and hugged her knees until the water went from hot to warm to cool to cold. 

Eventually, the water turned off; Angie was standing over her, looking sad.

“Come on.”

She reached out a hand, and after a moment of expecting it to turn into a knife, Winnie took it and let herself be hauled out of the shower. She wasn’t supposed to shower in the first twenty-four hours after getting her stitches, but neither she nor Angie said anything about it.

They didn’t talk. Angie wrapped a towel around her shoulders and walked her back to the bedroom, then laid some clothes on the bed.

“Do you need some help?”

Angie sounded uncomfortable. Winnie could sense, behind everything, the embarrassment that should be there, but she couldn’t really feel it. She couldn’t really feel anything. 

She could still manage some things herself, though, so with a shake of her head, she let the towel slide off her shoulders and started to tug down the sleeves of her ruined shirt.

Angie stepped out again.

It took her awhile to dry off and change into the unfamiliar pajamas. They were just a plain t-shirt and some shorts she had to tighten with the strings to keep them from falling back down to her ankles. That would be just another thing to embarrass her on this awful day. 

Winnie sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her hands. Was she really so wretched that someone felt the need to stab her? Not even her own family had ever done such a thing, but she realized that she preferred the knife over what they really did to her. At least with the knife she could write it off as an accident. One of her younger siblings running with a sharp object and tripping into her, her father turning too quickly while cutting some vegetables, her mouth mistaking her for a cutting board- she could come up with excuses for them hurting her, like she always did, like she always would do because she was afraid of the truth more than the blade.

_They love me. They wouldn’t hurt me like that. I just need to prove myself._

Winnie touched the thick bandaging on her shoulder and winced. Now she was like Carrie White in more ways than one.

She thought about the show. Would it be postponed because of what happened? She really hoped it wouldn’t. She needed this performance more than she needed painkillers. She would go on with her shoulder gushing blood if she had to, she didn’t care.

There was a knock on the door; Angie entered, looking not at all like herself. Her hair was ruffled, her makeup was washed off, her eyes were shadowed. It felt sort of inappropriate to see her so undone when she usually took so much care into the way she looked. Winnie turned her head away.

Angie sat next to her on the bed and for a while, they didn’t talk. Winnie tried not to look at Angie, still thinking she wasn’t supposed to see her so disheveled, but she noticed the woman thatching her fingers together beside her. 

“You must be tired.”

Winnie didn’t answer. She still couldn’t answer. Her body was still strangling itself, keeping her voice locked away. Maybe she didn’t deserve to even be heard.

“I’m sorry,” Angie spoke again, and with a jarring shock, Winnie realized she was crying. “This must be so awful for you.”

Winnie blinked up at her. She didn’t think anyone had ever cried over her before. Not that there was much to cry over in the first place, as her younger siblings liked to constantly remind her of the little worth her existence held. And yet, here was Angie Dickinson, a fucking celebrity, weeping over someone so far below her. Winnie couldn’t wrap her head around it.

“I knew there was something off about Nick since that day he touched you during practice, but--” Angie sniffed, pushing back tears with shellac nails. Winnie worried she was going to poke her eye out with one of them. “I never expected him to do something like this. I mean, you’re just a _child._ ”

Did her age ever really matter, though? It only seemed to make people angry. Winnie thought back to the videos Nick had shown her and tried not to whimper.

Alyssa and Emma…

“You know,” Angie’s voice wavered slightly. “I was once in this production of Romeo and Juliet. I was Lady Capulet. But it was dystopian themed and during the fight with Paris, the glass bottle someone was using broke. It was a breakaway bottle, but apparently the fake glass was still sharp enough to deal damage because the actor who was holding it slashed open his entire palm. Like, gaping cut, blood everywhere- THAT kind of wound. And the guy,” She actually laughed slightly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing--but the guy started just _screaming_ .” She did a rather impressive imitation of an adult man, “ _‘AAAAGH MY FUCKING HAND! MY FUCKING HAND IS BLEEDING!!!’_ And then he sprinted offstage and had to leave to get stitches. It ended up being a lot less deep and gaping that we all thought, but it still probably hurt like a bitch. But that was just a simple cut and he was also a grown man, but you got _stabbed_ , and yet you didn’t even scream or cry.”

She hadn’t, had she? It wasn’t because she had a low pain tolerance, it was because she genuinely didn’t feel the knife go in at all. If anything, it felt sort of ticklish and really cold. Now it was hurting, but at the time--nothing. 

Winnie didn’t realize that was something to be proud of.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say that you were really brave,” Angie said. She had stopped crying and was trying to resettle her features into their normal maturity. “I know today was really tough, but you did so good. I’m so proud of you.”

 _That_ got through to Winnie. Well, all of Angie’s words had, but that just hit differently than all the rest.

Nobody ever said they were proud of her. Not personally. Not like that.

That sentence repeated in Winnie’s mind, and she pretended her mother was saying them to her.

“Do you want to try and call your parents?” Angie then asked. “Sorry, I probably should have went in with that. They must be worried about you.”

Somehow, Winnie managed to snort, and Angie furrowed her eyebrows in concern. Winnie shook her head and looked down.

“Oh,” Angie said. There was an awkward pause for a moment, then she went on, “Well, you can stay here as long as you want. I’m happy to have you.”

Winnie didn’t know if that was a lie or not. She already felt like a burden.

Angie shifted beside her. Winnie knew she had an amazing patience level, but she was still wondering how the woman had yet to snap at her for her constant silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Angie asked.

Winnie tried to shrug, but it just came out as a very small twitch of her good shoulder. Angie seemed to catch it because she nodded.

“Alright. I don’t blame you. It must have been pretty traumatic for you. Are you hungry?”

She wasn’t. The event alone was enough to take away her appetite, but the pain pills helped with that, too. The memory of the thread sliding through her flesh added another layer of emptiness to her stomach as well.

Realizing she had to answer this question, Winnie managed to shake her head.

Angie pursed her lips. “Are you sure? I thought you would have been after throwing up.”

That was right. She threw up. She felt bad for whoever had to clean _that_ up. Just another thing to add to her unending feelings of guilt.

Winnie shook her head again.

“Well… Alright.” Angie finally gave in. “I think the best thing we can do right now is try to just get some sleep. We can try your parents again in the morning if you want.”

Angie didn’t wait for an answer, but Winnie thought that was because she had gotten used to her not speaking. She stood up and gently took Winnie’s hand, leading her out into the main area of the apartment. It was definitely much bigger than the regular ones you would see in New York City.

“My room is just over here,” Angie said, leading her to a door further into the flat. “If you need anything at all, no matter what it is, just come get me. Or if you’re in too much pain to move, yell for me. I’m a light sleeper, so I’ll be able to hear.”

Winnie nodded, even though she would never do any of that. Even if she weren’t stabbed or in shock, she could never ever ask for help, let alone wake someone up from sleeping. She had only done that once with her parents, when she was ten and sick in the middle of the night, and learned from her mistake the moment the berating began.

Angie took her back to the spare room. She drew the curtains and helped Winnie into the bed, even put a glass of water on the nightstand for her. 

“Is your shoulder hurting?”

Winnie shook her head.

“Do you need anything else?”

Another shake.

“Alright. Remember, I’m just down the hall. Or whatever you call an apartment. Down the flat.”

If she were trying to get Winnie to laugh, it didn’t work, but Winnie appreciated the effort anyway.

“Goodnight, Winnie.”

With that, Angie was gone. 

For a long moment, Winnie just sat up in the bed. The comforter on her was thick and puffy, the kind her parents’ bed had over it. When she eventually laid down, she pretended it _was_ her parents’ bed and the huge pillows next to her were her mother and father, and that helped her drift off into a restless sleep.

* * *

When Winnie eventually awoke, it was still dark. She blinked her eyes in the blackness, which felt thick and palpable all around her. She reached out to touch it, thinking the shadows would ripple and melt like water beneath her fingertips, but she was halted by a sharp pain in her shoulder. She winced. The memories came rushing back.

That was right. She had been stabbed.

She looked around the room. It looked like something that could have fit in her own house- Mary certainly would have liked how pristine it was. If she tried really hard, she could almost trick herself into thinking she _was_ at home. And then she noticed the closet door and something sparked inside of her.

Winnie walked over to the closet and stepped inside.

_“Let’s see how you like it when you really have to get into character.”_

She was doing what they wanted, wasn’t she? Sinking back into the old clothes hanging up on the rack, she realized her parents had just been trying to help her. They wanted her to succeed in her role! She knew it. She knew it… 

* * *

_“What is going on in here?”_

_Winnie jumped and twisted around to see her mother slithering inside, growing bigger and more menacing with every step she took. Winnie quickly turned off the music she had been playing._

_“Hello, Mother,” She greeted sweetly. “I’m just practicing for my show! It’s really close, remember? I’ve already got tickets for you and everyone else!”_

_Mary sniffed. The edges of her eyes crinkled in distaste. “Don’t waste your money.”_

_Winnie blinked at her, confused. “What?”_

_“Give the tickets to someone who cares,” Mary went on._

_“But you--”_

_“We aren’t going,” Mary said. “We won’t waste our time on some mediocre performance.”_

_“B-but--” There was a flash of anger. “It’s not some ‘mediocre performance,’ you--”_

Crack _, went something in Mary’s head._

_Winnie noticed it immediately- the way her mother’s twisted expression twitched and rippled on her face like a melting wax mask, the way a diseased light flickered behind her eyes, the way her nostrils flared with a silent breath. Mary still had the same look on her face as she had when she first came in, but just slightly lopsided. It was like a wrinkled photograph cut from a magazine or a blurry movie still. There was something awful swimming behind those brown eyes, and Winnie had accidentally awakened it._

_Winnie wondered for a fleeting second if she was infected with the same parasite as her mother._

_Winnie was very tense, so much so that the muscles in her neck were bunching up and popping out painfully. Her knees were shaking and a bead of sweat ran down the side of her face slowly._

_She was terrified. Genuinely terrified. Like she thought she was going to_ die _._

 _“Guinevere.” Mary said calmly, but Winnie still shivered. The weight of the fury in that one simple word--her mother might as well have called her ‘Disappointment.’ “_ Dear _. I’m a what?”_

_“Nothing…” Winnie squeaked, hunching her shoulders in and lowering her head._

_“I’m what, Guinevere?”_

_“Nothing!”_

_“A jerk? A prick? A bitch? A cunt? What am I, Guinevere?”_

_“Nothing! You’re nothing!” Winnie cried. “I’m sorry!”_

_Mary had Winnie cornered- literally. The girl was backed up in the far corner of the room near the window, which she glanced at for just a moment, as if she were considering jumping out of it to get away from her mother’s umbered wrath._

_Mary stretched her neck to the left and there was a series of pops that reverberated around the room. She seemed to be swelling up like a venomous snake. She laced her fingers together against her stomach. Her gaze was callous and cruel, offering absolutely no pity to the girl cowering beneath her uncaring stare._

_“I’m going to explain this to you once, Guinevere, so you better listen because I will not tell it to you again,” Mary said. Her words were slithering slowly from her lips like venomous snakes, scaly and fanged. They bit into Winnie’s ears, pumping their poison into her brain no matter how hard she tried to combat them. “Nod if you understand that.”_

_Winnie nodded shakily. She wasn’t making eye contact, rather focusing her gaze on the floor and nothing else._

_“I may have birthed you, but you are no daughter of mine,” Mary said bluntly, not even bothering to sugarcoat the comment. “I just had the unfortunate punishment of having to raise you.”_

_With just those two simple sentences, it was as if Winnie’s entire life just ended. It didn’t just come crashing down to her feet- it was over. She was nothing without her mother._

_“B-but--”_

_“You are not my daughter.” Mary repeated coldly. “Do you understand me?”_

_This time, Winnie didn’t nod._

_Mary narrowed her eyes dangerously._

_“Nod, Guinevere.”_

_“Wh-what about--Abigail--”_

_“Don’t bring her up, Guinevere. This isn’t about her.” Mary warned lowly._

_But Winnie couldn’t stop the words that began to bubble up in her throat. Her voice came out way too loud and way too shrill and way too desperate, but she couldn’t choke it back._

_“Why? What does she have that I don’t? What did I do? What can I do to make you love me like that? Why her? What makes her so--”_

_The sound of a slap resonated through the room._

_Winnie was hit so hard she actually stumbled into the wall. She tentatively touched her stinging cheek, which burned upon contact, then looked up in fear at Mary, whose hand was slightly red from the force she had used._

_There was no remorse present in her mother’s dark brown eyes._

_“Do NOT speak of my daughter in that way again, you vile little pest!” Mary roared. “I will bring your guts into your mouth if you even THINK to do it again!”_

_It was as if Mary was dehorning Winnie- grabbing onto ram horns with strong, clawed hands and twisting and twisting and_ twisting _until they snapped off and are pulled out of her flesh with copious squirts of blood pouring free, leaving twin gaping red horrors open in her head._

_“C-calm down!” Winnie squeaked. “You’re scaring me!”_

_“And you WONDER why I don’t want to be your mother!” Mary went on, ignoring the plea. “I could list a hundred reasons right now and that still wouldn’t be enough to explain to you about how much I don’t want you as a daughter!” Winnie didn’t ask for any of them, but they were still shoved down her throat anyway. “You’re clingy, you’re needy, you expect everyone to like you, you’re always tugging at my sleeve, you seem to think everything is about you, you act like a complete attention whore, you’re an illegitimate bastard who I never wanted, to name a few! The only reason why I had you was because abortions were illegal at the time of your awful birth! Why would I EVER want to be the mother to someone like_ you _?”_

_Winnie couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even think straight. So when she noticed Mary towering over her, she flinched and raised her hand instinctively, clawing like a wild beast._

_The reaction from such was worse than the words._

* * *

She was still in the darkness, but she remembered the thing she had done and realized it made sense. Of course they would leave her to sleep in it. She needed to stop being so surprised when she woke up to it every time. 

Her shoulder hurt, but it was also really cramped in there and she clipped it on the way in, so that made sense. Her head hurt, but that was normal, and she was shaking, but that was normal, too. Abigail often made fun of her for being so jittery and Leonard and Annabelle started calling her “Jitterbug”, which offended her more than she liked to admit.

She shifted. Something didn’t feel right. This darkness never felt right in the first place, but something was different. There was something tight around the middle of her arm and she thought they were shackles.

Her first blow against the door landed clumsily. Weird. It felt like wood that rapped against her knuckles, not metal. The sound it made was hollow and dull, sort of like how metal should, but not quite. Not in the right way. It was wrong, something was _wrong_ \--

Her second blow against the door was harder. It was louder this time, too, and now she knew for sure that was wood she was hitting, not metal.

Why? What had happened? Did they transport her into a wooden coffin while she was asleep? Wasn’t the first place punishment enough?

The third blow came, and this time she couldn’t stop herself from throwing her full weight against the door, cracking her skull on the wood making her see juicy starbursts of color for a moment. This place had more space, at least, for what it was worth, but it did little to quell her rising panic. She felt like a trapped tiger, fighting for release.

Again and again, she hit the door, even clawing it and catching her nails painfully on the wood. She heard something that sounded like a mewling wail and realized it had to have been herself, who else would it be, but it was hard to process anything when you’re in the Dark and it was _dark_ and nobody was responding but that wasn’t new because when did anyone ever listen to her and she couldn’t breathe and it was _DARK_ \--

The door was yanked open with force and she fell forward, her palms grazing across cement.

Wait-- no.

Not cement.

Carpet.

Carpet?

She couldn’t remember where she was and she couldn’t see anything at all to even begin to piece it all together. Two hands were on her shoulders, steadying her, and her heart leapt into her mouth. Where was she? Who was on her? What were they going to do to her now?

“Winnie? Winnie, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

For a moment, Winnie faltered. She had been expecting a sharper voice or at least a man’s voice. This wasn’t that. This was soft, gentle, reassuring. She didn’t know what to do with this.

Winnie blinked hard in the darkness, trying to force her eyes to adjust to it. Her heart was thumping in her chest and her whole body was tense, ready to make a blind run for it if she got a chance. Her ears strained for any sound of movement; any footsteps or a rustle of clothing that would tell her someone was trying to get closer. Hell, she didn’t even know how many people were in this room or how many could see her. She couldn’t hear anything over her own uneven breaths and the blood roaring in her ears.

“Winnie, can you hear me?” The voice asked gently. “It’s me. It’s Angie. You’re safe here. We’re at my apartment. I’m sorry if I startled you. I heard you screaming. You had me so worried.”

Winnie felt shivers cascade down over her arms and thighs. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense, and that made her panic harder.

“Winnie, you’re safe here. It’s Angie. We’re in my apartment, remember? My guest room. You’re staying over because of what happened. I brought you here after the hospital visit. You’re safe, darling, nobody’s coming for you. I’m going to turn on one of the lights now so you can see for yourself, okay?”

There was the sound of shuffling footsteps across fluffy carpet; Winnie winced as a lamp flickered to life and lit up the room. She expected to open her eyes to her parents standing above her with malicious smirks and hate in their eyes. Instead what she saw was a regular bedroom with a bed, curtains, a small vanity, and a nightstand with a lamp on it. And, there in front of that nightstand with a lamp on it, was Angie Dickinson, eyes warm and watching Winnie with a soft smile, golden light highlighting her form as if she were an angel, hands held low and in front of her, palms down, like she was trying to soothe a cornered animal. Everything about this was _wrong_.

“It’s alright, Winnie,” Angie, not one of her parents, not one of her siblings, not even Maggie, said. “You’re okay.”

If the carpet hadn’t been enough to bring all the memories back, then the actress’s face certainly did.

The fake blood dump, the videos, the lies, the knife, the _blood_ \--

Hands. On her arms. Winnie tensed, sucked in a sharp breath, then suffocated. She didn’t dare breathe, not now, not when she knew her simple existence would get her in trouble.

“What on earth were you doing in there?” Angie asked, now more concerned.

Winnie looked up at her, wide-eyed. Her lungs felt like they were in a cage. Why were they in a cage? Why couldn’t she _breathe_ \--

“You’re breathing too fast, Winnie,” Angie said, and her voice sounded very far away. Was she underwater or was Winnie? Winnie couldn’t tell, but she certainly felt like she wasn’t taking in oxygen. Everything was so thick and heavy, cutting her chest like a knife.

Like a _KNIFE_ \-- 

“You’re having a panic attack, honey.”

No wonder why Winnie couldn’t breathe. Her chest was tight and her ears were ringing and she felt like there was a target painted onto her back. She pressed her palms flat against the wall behind her, feeling just a touch safer knowing that no one could sneak up behind her when she was like this. She always preferred when her siblings messed with her when she could see them.

“You need to breathe.”

When had breathing ever helped her before? When she was in the Dark, every breath she took was just made to kill her. Over and over again, the constant exchange of carbon dioxide tried to strangle her.

“Come on, Winnie. Match your breathing to mine. Nice and slow, in through your nose and then out through your mouth. You can do it.”

This reminded Winnie of when they first rehearsed And Eve Was Weak. She had run from the green room because the slap from Dee Dee was too real, felt _too real_ , and Alyssa and Emma came to her aid. The memory of the two of them there with her used to be comforting, used to make her feel important, but now it was just another thing there to hurt her.

“Please, sweetheart. You have to breathe with me. I know you can do it.”

Winnie forced her eyes to stay on Angie as she lowered herself into a more comfortable position on her knees. She held out a hand to Winnie, but she couldn’t move to take it. Instead, she nodded stiffly to let Angie know she had heard her and clenched her hands against the plaster of the wall behind her. Her knuckles were stiff as she spread her weight from her palms onto her fingers, and Winnie pressed more force backwards until a dull pain blossomed in the joints, spreading like fire up to her shoulder, which throbbed in resistance. It gave her something she could trust, something she could focus on. The pain was real, even if the rest was questionable.

She took a shaky breath in with Angie and tried to hold it but her lungs were too shallow to match what Angie was doing. Her chest burned as she tried to hold the air in place and Winnie choked on the breath and gasped, forcing more air into her already-full lungs. It felt like drowning, and Winnie let out a pained whimper as flashes of black spots clouded her vision. She was helpless, lost in the force of the ocean waves. She couldn’t tell which way was up or down or where the shore was and then suddenly, someone had laced their fingers around hers and Winnie squeezed tightly onto her lifeline.

“--hear me? Winnie? It’s okay, I promise it’s okay, nothing’s happening, you’re not in danger. You’re safe here. Can you even hear me? What do I do if you can’t hear me? Winnie, I’m right here, it’s Angie, I’m here and I’ve got you, okay? I’m not leaving you.”

Winnie made a very tiny noise, and she thought she may have been trying to say Angie’s name.

“I’m still here. It’s just you and me, sweetie, nobody else. Can you open your eyes for me? Please?” Angie’s voice was much closer to her ear now and slightly more frantic than it had been a minute ago. Winnie could hear it tinged into her assurances.

She hadn’t even realized her eyes were closed until Angie asked her to open them again. She blinked them open slowly, squinting in the light. She was still hunched against the wall but Angie was holding her hand now. Winnie was looking down at her own chest, which was heaving with her efforts to breathe.

Angie smiled at her effort and reached her other hand up to brush some of the strands back from Winnie’s sweaty forehead. Winnie closed her eyes and exhaled quietly, leaning into the gentle touch as Angie’s fingertips dragged across her temple and sent shivers down her arms.

“Shh, shh,” Angie soothed her, brushing her fingers through Winnie’s hair. Winnie fell silent, listening to Angie’s breathing and tried to match her own to it. It was easier standing together like this, when Winnie could know Angie was really there.

“Keep going. You’re doing so good, baby.”

Winnie didn’t know if she even wanted to breathe, but she was never one to disobey someone, so she took in a small breath that grated her lungs like iron claws. She whimpered.

“Good girl,” Angie’s voice was softer now, less firm and frantic. Winnie felt bad for making her panic, but felt even worse for waking her up. “Keep going. Just like me.”

Winnie did as she was told. It hurt terribly, making her wonder if she had been stabbed for a second time, but she kept breathing anyway. The last thing she wanted was to make Angie angry.

Slowly, so slowly, the invisible fingers around her throat pulled away. She no longer felt like she was actively being choked, which she supposed was good. Angie helped her back to the bed after a while.

“What were you doing in there?” 

Winnie shifted. She didn’t dare meet Angie’s gaze. She knew Angie wasn’t mad, Angie wasn’t like that, but she still didn’t want to see her expression. She felt ashamed.

“Were you trying to find some new clothes?” Angie tried to fill the silence, asking questions that could be answered without proper words. “If those didn’t fit or weren’t comfortable, I would have gotten you some different ones. You just had to ask.”

Winnie would never have.

“Did the door get stuck behind you when you were looking?”

“N-no.” 

It was the first time she had spoken in hours. Her voice sounded unfamiliar to even herself. Was she even still Winnie?

“What happened?” Angie asked again, softer this time.

She had to answer. She should lie. That would be the best way to go about this, wouldn’t it? But it was always hard for her to lie. She wasn’t very good at it, so the truth was dragged out of her like a reeling fish hook scraping up her throat.

“I went inside.” Winnie uttered. “M-myself.”

“Why did you go inside?”

Winnie’s eyes slid over to the closet. Would Angie believe her if she said she was just trying to get into character?

“I-I--” There were tears in her voice, then tears in her eyes, then tears on her cheeks. She was crying, and it burned like molten lava.

“Sweetie…” Angie murmured. One of her thumbs brushed away some tears, and Winnie couldn’t stop from tilting her head into her hand. She was so fucking starved of affection that it was embarrassing. “Did the door get stuck?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t open it from the inside so I never tried.”

Angie opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. She looked at the closet door, furrowing her eyebrows like thunder clouds, and then looked back at Winnie, extremely concerned.

“What do you mean?” Angie asked.

Winnie didn’t answer her. She couldn’t meet her eyes anymore. The shame was coming back with vengeance.

“Winnie,” Angie’s hands were in her own, coaxing her to look. “What do you mean? Inside what?”

_The lid slammed down, and she only just missed it crushing her fingers--_

“I--”

_She heard her parents walk away, and she screamed, “No! Please! Please come back!”_

_Nothing._

_She pounded at the lid, making as much noise as possible. “I’ll be good!” She cried. “I’ll do better! I’ll be better!” She kicked and pounded until she was drenched in sweat and hyperventilating--_

Winnie whimpered. The bandaging still around the middle of her right arm was tight, so she pulled a hand away from Angie’s to fiddle with it. It distracted her, dulled her mind, made her mouth work without the consent from her brain.

“The car.”

Winnie could practically see the gears turning inside of Angie’s head. She knew she was being annoying with her vague answers, but she couldn’t come out and say the truth. It hurt too much. She didn’t want to think about it.

_What would they say when her body was finally discovered, a rotting corpse stuffed in the back of a--_

“Oh, honey.”

Winnie shied away from the concerned look Angie gave her. As much as she craved it, she still wasn’t used to people caring about her. Not outside of a script, but even that felt weird and unnatural to her. 

“Why didn’t you tell one of us? Tell me?”

“What?”

 _That_ made Winnie look up. Now it was her turn to be the confused one.

Angie pursed her lips while looking at her, analyzing her, then shook her head.

“Nothing. Nevermind. Here, you should drink some water.”

It was a jarring shift in attention. Winnie didn’t know if it was because Angie was disturbed by her or if Angie was trying to move away from the topic to keep her from getting uncomfortable. She tried not to think too hard about it.

“Here.”

The glass of water from the nightstand was set in her hands. She took small sips from it, only then realizing how thirsty she was. She drank it all.

“Thank you.”

It was the first time she had actually said it after everything, and because of a glass of water no less. But Angie seemed to know that she meant her thanks for all that she had done for her and smiled warmly.

“You’re welcome.”

For a long time, the two of them just sat in silence. Winnie didn’t mind. She had nothing to say. 

Eventually, Angie got up and walked out, saying her goodnights and reminding Winnie that she could wake her up whenever she needed to. 

Winnie made a silent promise to not have that happen again.

* * *

_“Get in.”_

_“N-no, Mother--”_

_Thomas sunk his fingernails into Winnie’s forearms and manhandled her into the trunk of the old car the family kept for bragging rights._

_“I said get in, you vile pest!”_

_Winnie had to get away. She tried to scramble out of the trunk, but rough hands shoved her back. “Don’t leave me here! Please!”_

_“There are consequences for everything, Winnie. You know that.” Mary said, looking menacing beside her husband._

_“You care more about that damn show than anything important,” Thomas growled. “Let’s see how you like it when you really have to get into character.”_

_Winnie pulled at the edge of the trunk, trying to get up. The lid slammed down, and she only just missed it crushing her fingers._

_She heard her parents walk away, and she screamed, “No! Please! Please come back!”_

_Nothing._

_She pounded at the trunk lid, making as much noise as possible. “I’ll be good!” She cried. “I’ll do better! I’ll be better!” She kicked and pounded until she was drenched in sweat and hyperventilating._

_Still nothing._

_Her parents were so angry… What if they never let her out?_

_Dread sped up her thoughts, racing through her veins, filling her with desperation._

_No one would even hear her screams, her last dying words, her final prayers…_

_She began to wheeze, the thick, musty air brushing against her lips. The oppressive stench of her own fear and sweat burned her nose._

_Would the neighbors notice? Would they even care?_

_Would her cast members, so quick to look away from her black eyes and limping figure, even call and ask where she was?_

_Would Emma or Alyssa or Dee Dee or Angie come to save her?_

_Winnie began to scratch on the trunk, the frame, the hinges, scrambling to escape, her instincts pitching her action into a fury of movement. She couldn’t even think to try and use her magic in her panic._

_What would they say when her body was finally discovered, a rotting corpse stuffed in the back of a car? Perhaps she would be the talk of the town. The poor Thompson kid, whose parents went mad with anger over something petty. Who killed their illegitimate child, slowly starving their tiny daughter to death one evening while they drank expensive champagne from crystal glasses and watched an animated movie with the children they actually liked._

_Winnie’s fingers scratched harder, grazing the metal confines of her coffin. She could feel the warmth of her blood as the nails began to tear and break, smell the copper of her panic, leaving thin lines of crimson as she clawed frantically._

_What if she didn’t starve to death? What if she suffocated? Could that happen? No, she’d probably die of dehydration first. Already she could feel her throat constrict, dry and callous, an arid lining of flesh. Spots of light pricked her vision. Tears ran down the side of her face, mingling with the sweat now coating her skin. She felt clammy and cold, yet suddenly too hot, as if in a fever._

_“Mother, let me out!” She begged coarsely, the words scratching at her throat. “Father!”_

_She could take the hitting or yelling or being sent to her room. Anything but this._

_“Please don’t leave me here! Mother, please! Please! Father! Mommy!!” Her voice slowly trailed off, and she finally laid still, spent. She kept whispering “please, please, please” after silence and darkness surrounded her. “Don’t leave me… Don’t leave me…”_

_She ran her hands over the walls and floor and winced. Her hands and feet throbbed and stung from all the banging. Her back was starting to cramp from the tight squeeze._

_People were not meant to be confined to closed spaces while alive._

_There was no choice, though. She felt every inch of the trunk, looking for a catch, for a tool. There was only metal, harsh with corners and ridges and a couple of foul-smelling rags. No crowbar. No jack._

_Even with something that could help, even if she could get herself out, her parents would only find another way to punish her, probably worse. She would wait. Her parents couldn’t possibly leave her for long. She thought about the show to try and help herself calm down._

_Someone would wonder where she was if her parents left her too long. Someone would hear her kicks and screams from the old car in their driveway. Someone would come…_

_The musty air was stale. The trunk was small. She couldn’t stretch out her legs or even her arms all the way. Metal dug into whatever part of her it touched._

_Since there was nothing she could do, the best thing was to rest and wait. Her parents would come back._

_The air grew chillier by the minute. Her arms hurt. Her head hurt. Her feet stung. Her fingers and toes throbbed. Her back was tight and cramped._

_Her body distracted her from her thoughts._

_Some time later she woke, surprised to find she’d slept. Night birds and insects sang and cheeped and whistled. Her ears, nose, fingertips, lips, and feet were cold._

_She held up three fingers in front of her face and thought she saw them. Then she felt her hand with the other and found her palm was in her line of sight. The sensation was very much like jumping into the deep end of a pool with her eyes closed then spinning underwater until she couldn’t feel which way was up. She was as hidden from the world here as she would be under the ocean._

_She felt around the small compartment again, this time using a methodical search pattern. But she had missed nothing the first time. No blanket, no water, no food…no way out._

_Kicking the trunk again, she could get neither leverage nor any sense that the latch might give. The pain in her feet intensified and when she felt them, her fingers came away slick with liquid. No matter. She changed position and tried kicking at the seats. They budged even less, and the movement shoved her head into the metal car frame._

_She couldn’t save herself. Her parents could leave her here and unless someone came looking for her, she could be long dead and no one would know, alone and forgotten, in the trunk of this run-down, rusted-out hulk of a car. No one would ever know. She shivered._

_The ache of cold settled into her, and the trunk grew damper with her breath and the humidity and dew. She packed herself into a corner, trying to trap and conserve warmth, and tried to hope that she’d be released soon._

_The next time she opened her eyes, it was warm, and she could see shadowy shapes slipping through thin cracks in the metal around her. It had to be morning. The night animals were silent, and birds sang their morning trills and tunes. She couldn’t hear anyone nearby, but she still screamed and shouted for any neighbor, any jogger, any tourist who may be wandering around the neighborhood. Her voice gave out after what could have been two or four hours._

_The sun had gotten higher, and the temperature was up. Sweat dripped everywhere and tickled as it hesitated at the tops of her curves. Thirst warred hunger. The air was thick with sweat, blood, and heat. She had to go to the bathroom. She was light-headed._

_Soon. Certainly soon. Her parents would let her out before she passed out again. Certainly the punishment was sufficient to the offense by now._

_She snorted at her foolish hope that someone would magically appear and free her. Her biological father who doesn’t even want her, perhaps? Or Alyssa or Emma? Trent? Angie or Barry or Dee Dee?_

_No, no… Wishful thinking did not make things happen. It was time she accepted that she was alone in this world._

_Two hours later, she pressed her foot against the side of the car, breathing into it as she tried to relax her calf. She felt the cut on her foot break open again._

_Her back ached from where it pressed into the metal floor, which was cold again and painful to the touch. She’d been curled into a cramped ball for so long she doubted her ability to ever straighten out._

_Her mouth and eyes were sticky, scratchy. Her stomach cramped. The exertion required to move was too great, so she laid still. Her chest ached with the effort to draw air._

_Had it been two days? Three? Should she be more worried about the fact that she hadn’t gone to the bathroom at all or that she has missed school? Those projects for some of her classes were also due by now… And she was missing so much practice so close to opening night…_

_The show! Had Trent or anyone else called to ask about her? Maybe they would send someone to look for her and she could make a ruckus and she would be freed._

_But if it was true about nobody really caring about her…and it was unlikely anyone would look in the trunk of an old car…_

_She would die here._

_She wondered absently when--or if--her parents would get her out and, if they did, where they would leave her body._

_There were things she had wanted to do before she died. She wanted to get a pet cat. She wanted to see the ocean again, even if she couldn’t really swim. She wanted to be told that someone loved her. Just one last time. One time would have been enough. Just one._

_The growing chill meant it was becoming dark outside again, and her damp clothes stuck cold to her skin. She shivered away energy she did not have. Her teeth chattered. Her thoughts flowed slowly, and there were long moments when she simply drifted, unable to focus on anything at all._

_She knew she would not wake up from this night…_

_And then she heard jingling._

_It was distant. Everything was distant. Her mind. Her body. Even the pain. All far away._

_She heard the slide of metal on metal._

_A click sounded near her. It was a lock opening._

_Winnie flinched, hitting her head on the wheel well. Again. She scooted against the back of the trunk, trying to wedge herself far away from whatever was coming next._

_The metal lid raised, and cold, crisp air rushed in. Light--it was daytime?--exploded everywhere around her. It all stung her face, her hands, her legs. She coughed. Her lungs burned with the sudden influx of fresh oxygen. She tried not to cry, but her body betrayed her again. Her throat and the corners of her eyes contracted, and tears rolled across the tight skin of her cheeks._

_“Get out.”_

_Winnie tried to move. Her muscles ached and cramped in her sides, back, and legs. The arm she’d been lying on was numb and wouldn’t support her. She tried not to catch her foot on the lip of the trunk. She tried not to stumble and fall as her feet touched the ground. She tried to unbend her legs to stand up._

_She never wanted to know what she looked like at that moment._

_Tears kept leaking out of her eyes, even as her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth._

_Everything was painful. Standing, hunger, humiliation. Pain and fear. The fear of and uncertainty about what came next, or didn’t come next._

_Still, she heard the whisper--aloud or in her head, she did not know--of her one thought: “Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Thank you.”_

_The sheer relief and the high of breathing fresh air along with the gratitude that they had let her out, that she was alive after all…it overwhelmed her. It was too much._

_Silent sobs shook her. Her whole body trembled with pain, with cold, with emotion._

_“God, you’re disgusting.”_

_Winnie looked up at her parents’ scornful stares of disgust, and thanked them weakly._

* * *

The axillary, the brachial, and the subclavian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are greatly appreciated!! this is probably my favorite chapter so i would love to hear y’all’s thoughts!


	7. Carrie On

**Alyssa**

Surprisingly enough, Alyssa had seen her fair share of gruesome injuries in her time.

When she was in theater in high school, she vividly remembered going over some stage fighting for an upcoming play and throwing her co-star to the ground and hearing the distinct sound of bones cracking. There was something haunting about being on top of a person while their skeleton seemed to fold inward, having her ear so close to that sickening snap. The resulting nightmare-inducing scream was actually a mercy to the other noise.

She had scrambled off of the boy, backing away on her hands and knees like she was a scared animal. The kid must have landed wrong when she pinned him because his knee was bent at an unnatural angle and he was screaming bloody murder. Someone in the wings threw up. Someone else fainted. The teacher rushed over to him and began yelling.

The kid ended up being fine and took it with no hard feelings. In fact, they still occasionally talk to this day and sometimes even joke about the event. The experience desensitized her to all types of gore, but not without a price. For a while, she was sensitive to any sound that resembled bones snapping. Even a foot stepping on a twig was enough to bring back the memory of the boy and the broken leg. She got over it eventually, but at the time, it had been hell.

And then she heard Foster’s yell and stepped into the dressing room and the most horrific thing she had ever witnessed was thrown out the window because  _ this _ \-- This was worse.

Alyssa used to think that the screaming was the worst part of any injury, regardless of severity. That elongated, guttural sound of agony that the victim didn’t have the power to mute or muffle, bearing completely raw emotion, ripped out from the throat without control or consent. 

But as Alyssa had knelt above Winnie’s body, she now knew that the screaming was a mercy. The silence was the real thing that she should have been fearing all these years.

The screaming, at least, as awful as it was, meant the victim was alive. Even with their mind clouded with agony, they were sentient enough to even  _ feel  _ that agony. They were there, they knew, they could feel.

Winnie was not, did not, could not.

The silence did not bring serenity. The silence did not bring peace. The silence brought panic- overwhelming, blood-rushing panic that made Alyssa feel like she was standing in the middle of a raging white water river, battered by the current. It made everything fall away into little broken pieces that would never be able to form its proper puzzle ever again. It made her feel true, unadulterated, unbridled terror for the first time since she was sixteen and in a theater that smelled of wood and cleaning supplies with another kid screaming his heart out right beneath her.

It made her feel  _ helpless. _

And then, as if a giant log had been hurled from the raging river of dread and hit her in the face, awareness came rushing back to her. Like the invisible current had shoved her, she was lunging forward and going to the stabbed girl’s side, giving herself a pretty nasty floor burn when she skid across the ground on her knees. Winnie had looked up at her with wide, glazed eyes, and said, “I think I’m hurt.”

Alyssa pushed Winnie down onto her back. That’s what you were supposed to do with someone who was potentially bleeding out, right? Was Winnie bleeding out? She had been stabbed in the shoulder, yeah, but the shoulder was close to the heart… How many vessels were in the shoulder? ( _ a bundle of three major arteries…the axillary, the brachial, and the subclavian… _ ) 

Was Winnie going to  _ die _ ?

“Okay, o-okay,” Alyssa stammered. She could hear the shakiness in her own voice. If she had the ability to think clearly at that moment, she would have masked her dignity by controlling her emotions, but it felt impossible. “You’re going to be alright, Winnie. You’re going to be alright. It’s going to be okay.”

Was she trying to reassure Winnie or herself?

“Someone call 911!” 

Angie’s voice made Alyssa flinch in surprise. She looked up to see the woman on the other side of Winnie’s crumpled body, who somehow looked calm despite all the panic and the blood. 

“It’s her shoulder,” Alyssa told Angie.

Angie pursed her lips, then said, “I need something to stop the bleeding.” She turned her head to everyone else. “Someone give me something!”

Nobody complied, too hysteric to process anything that was being said. 

Angie grit her teeth and yelled again, “SOMEONE GIVE ME SOMETHING!”

This time, someone listened. Jess yanked a blue shirt off of a rack of clothes and handed it to Angie. She sickly glanced down at Winnie and then tottered away. Angie turned to Alyssa.

“Move.”

Alyssa obeyed. She pulled her hands from the stab wound and blood instantly came burbling out from the loss of pressure. It was then that she actually gazed upon the wound, having been too panicked to do so when she first got on the ground, and it felt like a physical knife against Alyssa’s own chest. 

She had never been one of those people who could feel pain from watching others get hurt, and yet, in that moment of raw horror, she swore she could  _ feel _ her own flesh being sliced open, muscles and tendons snapping away like weak thread, vessels punctured and scapula scuffed, sending her nerve endings alight with white fire, the restricting her from breathing--and then she realized she  _ wasn’t  _ breathing. Not really. Not while she looked at the gash. It used its severed veins as a noose and  _ strangled her _ .

Alyssa realized then that the experience in the theater was not the most horrific thing she had ever witnessed. At least she was a teenager when it happened. Being an adult and squeezing onto the slashed open flesh of a child hurt in more ways than she could truly express. There was just something so fucking terrifying about being the one to pinch gushing blood vessels closed, to be the fingers furthering a girl’s pain by pressing them onto her aching wound, to be so close to the site of all the agony, so close to helping and stopping it, and yet not knowing what to do at all. Even though she knew something had to be done, Alyssa wanted to cut her hands off for the things they had done in those horrifying moments before Angie had taken over.

Alyssa looked down at her hands, and they were covered in blood. Hot, wet, sticky blood.

Emma went down to her. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, Alyssa couldn’t even answer. And then, she found her voice and said, “Yeah.”

After the paramedics came and took Winnie and Nick (Dee Dee had beaten him senseless) away, the theater was eerily silent. Nobody knew what to do or say. Trent had to excuse himself at one point, and Alyssa thought she had seen the glisten of tears in his eyes before he whisked out the door.

“What are we going to do now?” Bee asked after a long, painful silence. “I mean-- Our main actress--”

“It’s not about the show right now,” Dee Dee said lowly.

“When did you grow some selflessness?” Jess said. Dee Dee snapped her gaze over to her, enraged, and clenched her bloodied fists. Foster set a hand on Jess’s shoulder, silencing her.

“Who’s going to clean THAT up?” Alex asked, eyeing the pool of vomit and several puddles of blood.

Nobody said anything. Everyone had just been trying to ignore the existence of the bodily fluids.

Luckily, a forced answer wasn’t necessary because Trent slid back into the room. His eyes were puffy and raw and his cheeks were red, but if the others noticed, nobody said anything. He held up his phone.

“She’s fine,” He said. His voice had wavered slightly, so he cleared his throat and tried again, “Winnie is fine. She just got stitches. The doctor said she’s going to be okay.”

Instantly, the tension was lifted from the room. Everyone was relieved. Alyssa felt the black claws around her heart pull back, but then she looked down at her hands, at the blood still stained upon them, and they came back with shredding force.

“What’s going to happen to the show?” Foster asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Trent answered honestly. “We’re going to have to see how Winnie is doing. I’ll notify everyone in the morning, but for now, just go home. Practice is over for today.” 

He turned and walked out without another word. Nobody called after him.

As the others began to stand up and leave one-by-one, Emma nudged Alyssa’s side. Alyssa looked at her.

“Ready to go?” Emma asked.

“Yeah,” Alyssa answered, standing up.

“Wanna clean that off?” Emma glanced down at the blood on her hands.

Alyssa walked out of the room without replying.

The trek back to her apartment was silent. Emma trailed beside her, not saying anything. Alyssa thanked God for that; she had nothing to say. 

By the time they reached the apartment complex, Alyssa was mentally and physically drained. The first thing she did when they arrived was step out to the side and throw up on the pavement. Winnie’s blood was still on her hands. It was dried and starting to flake off. 

Upon entering her flat, Alyssa immediately beelined for the bathroom, leaving Emma behind to linger quietly. She thought she heard the rustle of the bag of cat food before she turned the shower on, but she couldn’t be sure. She didn’t care.

Alyssa lost her complete sense of time when she took a shower. She opened her hands and looked down at them as water pattered all around her. When the dried blood wettened once again, it became runny and slightly chunky with all the patches that had clumped together. She stood beneath the spray of scalding hot rain and blankly watched it stream out of her palms like a fountain and run down the drain. She dimly wondered if this was what Winnie White saw That Day in the locker room.

It was impossible to put into words just how fucking terrifying it was to have someone else’s blood on your hands- and a child’s blood no less. When it had become sticky and coagulated, it felt like a second skin, like it would never wash off no matter what she did. Even while she was scrubbing it away now, it still felt like it was there, soaked deep into her flesh where she could never truly get to.

Alyssa wasn’t exactly sure how much time passed, but she crumpled, eventually. She didn’t really know  _ what  _ had set her off, but her eyes were suddenly stinging like fire and there were tears on her cheeks. She sucked in a shaky breath that choked her and leaned her arm against the wall, burying her face into it. The tile was freezing cold and made goosebumps rise along her skin, but she didn’t care. It was hard to care about anything at that moment.

God. If it hurt this much, she didn’t even want to know what Winnie was feeling.

After a while, when the tears finally stopped, Alyssa got out of the shower, feeling like she was being dredged from the bottom of the ocean. She was surprised to find a pair of pajamas folded on the counter; Emma must have come in at some point to put them down for her. That made a very tiny smile ghost her lips, even if everything else still hurt.

Emma was waiting on the couch. She looked up from playing with Tea Cake using one of those poles with feathers on the end and gave her a warm smile that made her insides feel fuzzy and equally warm.

“Feeling any better?” 

Alyssa shrugged. Her shoulders felt like they weighed a ton. “Honestly? I don’t know just yet. But I’m not in shock anymore, that’s good.”

“Showers always help with that.”

Alyssa paused on her walk to the kitchen. Urged by curiosity, she couldn’t help but ask, “Did you take a shower after…?”

She didn’t need to say the rest because Emma seemed to understand.

“Yep,” Emma nodded. She wiggled the pole in her hands, and Tea Cake lunged for it, her bell collar jingling jovially with her movements. Laughing slightly, she said, “I even fell asleep in there! Can you believe that? I swear, our water bill skyrocketed that month.”

Alyssa gave a light chuckle. “Want some coffee?”

“I could drink.”

Alyssa started the coffee maker. “It’s just--  _ god _ , that really happened. It’s real.”

Although she couldn’t see Emma, she could hear the frown in her voice when she said, “Yeah.”

“I kept trying to convince myself that it wasn’t real, that it didn’t happen,” Alyssa went on. She hadn’t realized she had built up a dam of emotions since she stepped foot into that dressing room, but it was suddenly spilling out of her mouth. She didn’t bother trying to stop it. “I just kept saying to myself that it was all a joke or a new scene Trent implemented where Billy retaliated against Winnie or even a hallucination.” 

She and Emma both got a chuckle out of that last one.

“And it worked at some points. Like when everything quieted down after the paramedics came or when we were walking home. But then I would look down at the blood on my hands, at  _ Winnie’s blood _ , and it all came rushing back. And when I was in the shower, watching it wash down the drain, I guess that was when it really hit me.”

She heard the rustle and creak of cushions; Emma was now in the kitchen with her, placing a hand over one of her own. Alyssa gave her a small smile of thanks.

“It’s going to be okay, Alyssa,” Emma said. “Winnie’s fine.”

“I know,” Alyssa said. “It’s still shocking, though. But I’ll get over it.”

The coffee finished, so Alyssa slipped her hand out of Emma’s to pour them both two cups. They sat down on the couch, sitting there in silence for a few moments. Tea Cake wrestled with the fallen pole on the floor.

“Have you seen the Twitter posts yet?”

Alyssa groaned. “Twitter has gotten to it already?”

Emma gave a rueful laugh. “Yeah. Check it out. It’s using the show’s hashtag.”   
“Of course. Which one of our ensemble members snitched?”

“Knowing them, probably every single one.”

“True, true.”

Alyssa took her phone out and opened Twitter, going to #GlobeTheaterWinnie. As Emma had said, there were an abundance of new posts about the incident.

“Oh my god, there’s even memes about it,” Alyssa said.

“Yeah, it’s actually kinda funny,” Emma said. “A little insensitive, but funny.”

It was at that moment that Alyssa’s phone began to ring. The called ID displayed  **_“Mama.”_ ** She quickly picked up and stepped away from the living room.

“Hello?”

_ “Alyssa?”  _ Her mother’s voice sounded frantic.

“Mom?”

_ “Oh, thank heavens you’re alright,”  _ Veronica said.  _ “I heard about what happened. Are you okay? Are you safe?” _

Alyssa felt her heart swell at her mother’s worry for her. “Yes, I’m okay,” She said. “I’m at home. I have a--” She glanced at Emma. “--friend over with me, so I’m not alone. It’s Emma. You remember Emma, don’t you? The girl who’s playing Tommy?”

From the couch, Emma raised an eyebrow. Clear as day, her cocky expression said,  _ “You talk about me?” _

Alyssa smirked at her, then focused back on her phone conversation.

_ “Yes, I do,”  _ Veronica said.  _ “I’m glad that you’re okay. And that you’re not alone. I was so worried when I got the news. What happened?” _

__ “Remember when I told you about that guy who got kicked out of the show because he was being a jerk to our lead actress? Well, he came back and stabbed our lead actress.”

Veronica gasped.  _ “That’s awful! Isn’t she a child?” _

Alyssa nodded, even though she knew her mother couldn’t see her. “Yeah. She’s fifteen.”

_ “That poor thing,”  _ Veronica murmured.  _ “Do you know how she’s doing? Is she alive?” _

__ “Yeah, she’s alive,” Alyssa told her. “She was stabbed in the shoulder.”  _ And I got her blood all over my hands.  _ “Trent said she got stitches--”  _ But I’m still fucking terrified.  _ “--so she’s going to be okay.”

_ “Well, that’s good, at least,”  _ Veronica said.  _ “Do you think they will press charges?” _

Alyssa shrugged, even though, again, her mother wouldn’t be able to see. “I have no idea. You gotta remember this is also New York City. I’m sure shanking is just the norm here nowadays.”

Veronica sighed.  _ “The cruel reality of this place, I suppose.”  _ She said.  _ “Well, I just wanted to check on you. I’m happy everything is okay.” _

_ They aren’t, Mama, they aren’t. _

“I’m glad you called.”  _ I’m glad you care.  _

_ “I’ll let you off the hook now,”  _ Veronica said.  _ “Remember, I’m always here if you need me. You can visit whenever you want. You can even bring your friend.’ I would love to meet her.” _

Alyssa sputtered a laugh. She could hear the grin in her mother’s voice.

“Okay, Mom,” Alyssa said. “I love you.”

_ “I love you, too.” _

The phone called ended.

“Imagine having a healthy relationship with your mom,” Emma said. “Couldn’t be me.”

“Well, she seems to like you, so if you keep up your good streak, she may end up being your mom, too. At least according to law.”

Emma laughed.

“Wait, what?”

* * *

That night, Alyssa awoke covered in blood, then realized it was just cold sweat. She twitched, taking deep, sharp breaths as she gazed up through the darkness of her bedroom. At her side, Emma didn’t stir from her sleep.

Alyssa rolled over and tried to get some more rest. The image of the knife and the blood and the little corpse with red hair did not leave her.

* * *

Three days go by in a strange blur. Rehearsals went on, as would the show on the very next day. Everything went smoothly, aside from the fact that their lead performer wasn’t there.

“She’s still shaken about what happened,” Angie had said. “But she’ll be here. She won’t miss opening night.”

Alyssa couldn’t get the memory of Winnie out of her head. She had to see her, so the day before their very first show, she went down to Angie’s apartment after getting the address from Barry. Now, she was standing in front of a door, holding a platter of homemade chocolate chip cookies, trying to get the nerve to knock.

Why was she so nervous?

Swallowing the weird feeling of fear, Alyssa shook her head and knocked. After a moment, the door opened and there was Angie, clad in sweatpants and a sweater, very different from how Alyssa usually saw her at the theater. She looked surprised.

“Oh, Alyssa,” Angie said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Sorry,” Alyssa said. “I probably should have told you at rehearsals. I can go if you’re busy.”

“Not at all. Come in!”

Alyssa stepped into the apartment. It was much larger and much nicer than her own.

“So, what brings you here?” Angie asked, but Alyssa had a feeling she already knew the reason.

“I wanted to see Winnie,” Alyssa answered. “If that’s okay. I know she’s alright now, but I still wanted to check up on her.”

A smile came to Angie’s lips. “That’s very sweet, Alyssa. Let me see what Winnie thinks.” She turned to move, then paused. Softer, she said, “If she doesn’t want to see you, you’ll have to go. She’s very--fragile right now.”

Alyssa nodded in understanding. “Okay.”

This time, Angie did turn and walked to a nearby door with sock-padded feet. She knocked on it. 

“Winnie? It’s Angie.”

Weird. Angie lived alone, so she would be the only other person in the apartment. What was the point of announcing who she was?

Did Winnie think someone else may try to come in?

Softly, so softly she had to strain her ears, Alyssa heard a very faint, “Come in.”

Angie opened the door slightly so she could peek inside. Through the crack, Alyssa thought she saw a flash of red hair, and it made her heart leap inside of her chest. 

Even though it had been said over and over again that Winnie was fine, Winnie was going to make a full recovery, Winnie would be back, she still couldn’t help but worry. She had to see the girl for herself, so any sign of life was enough to raise her spirits.

“Alyssa is here,” Angie said. Her voice was warm and very nurturing when she was talking to Winnie, almost like how a mother would speak to her children. “Do you want to see her? It’s okay if you don’t. I can make her leave.”

“N-no. I wanna see her.”

“Alright,” Angie turned her head to Alyssa. “Come on.”

Alyssa walked over and stepped through the door Angie opened up for her.

The room was plain and impersonal--as guest bedrooms were, just slightly more luxurious because of it being inside a penthouse--and the only thing that marked it out as belonging to Winnie at all was the presence of the girl, who was perched stiffly on the edge of the bed.

She didn’t look at Alyssa but that wasn’t surprising. In fact, Winnie looked just the same as she’d always looked, hunched over on the theater floor, eyes on her shoes, making herself as small as possible.

Alyssa wondered if it was her presence that had invoked this, or if Winnie sat the same wherever she happened to be. She rather hoped it was the latter.

“Hi.”

Silence.

Then, meekly, like the squeak of a dormouse, “Hi.”

Angie looked between the two of them. “I’ll be right outside.”

The door shut, leaving Alyssa alone with Winnie. She wondered for a moment if that actually made Winnie more nervous- being in a closed-door room with someone, just like she had been with Nick.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Alyssa said. “That I came to see you. I was worried about you. We’re all worried about you. You know. After what happened.”

Winnie said nothing.

“Not that everyone is, like, talking about it or anything,” She added hastily. She deliberately did not mention what everyone WAS talking about. “We’re just worried. And I wanted to come check up on you.”

Still nothing. How was she supposed to make conversation with someone who wouldn’t even look at her?

Holding up the platter thickly-swathed in plastic wrap in her hands, she weakly offered, “I made cookies.” 

Winnie didn’t even shift on the bed. Alyssa was starting to worry that something else was wrong aside from Winnie’s anxiety. Something else that was deeper than even the trauma Winnie probably sustained from the stabbing. Something that had to do with…her? 

“They gave me stitches.”

It was so quiet that Alyssa almost missed.

“I heard,” Alyssa said. “I’m glad it wasn’t that bad.”

“They felt kinda weird,” Winnie said.

“I bet.”

“She said that I didn’t have to see you,” Winnie said. “Miss Angie.”

“I heard that, too. Just now.” 

Winnie thatched her fingers together. Her voice was even softer when she spoke up again. 

“I almost said no.”

Alyssa was slightly offended, though that was probably just a basic human reaction towards rejection. She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Why?”

Winnie looked up at her for the first time, and despite how dull her eyes were, there was something sparked within them. Courage? Annoyance? Fear?

Anger?

Winnie shook her head. Her red hair swayed around her shoulders. “Nevermind.” She said. “You can sit. If you want.”

Alyssa did. She looked around the room, trying to find something to talk about.

“What has it been like?” She asked. That seemed like a safe topic. “Being with Angie, I mean.”

“It’s nice,” Winnie said. “She gave me fluffy socks.” And then she stuck a foot out from under the thick white duvet to show Alyssa the yellow-and-white polka dot fuzzy socks she was wearing. There was a small glint of honor and pride in her eyes over having them, as if they were the greatest gift she had ever received, which Alyssa found slightly odd given that she was rich and could easily buy something much better than socks.

Still, Alyssa smiled. “That was nice. They look cozy.”

“They are,” Winnie pulled her foot back under the covers. “I have to wear her clothes, too. They’re a little big on me.” Then, rushing, “Not that Miss Angie is big! I just-- she-- I’m not--” She glanced nervously at the door, as if she were expecting Angie to burst inside and throw her off of the balcony for what she was saying. “We don’t wear the same size.”

Alyssa chuckled at her anxious babbling. “I could have guessed that,” She said. Furrowing her eyebrows in a moment of curiosity, she went on, “How come you’re staying at Angie’s in the first place, anyway? Shouldn’t your parents have gotten you by now?”

Winnie fell silent. Any light that may have returned to her eyes went away in an instant. She looked at the ground.

Alyssa was starting to understand why Winnie had been so honored to wear Angie’s socks.

Groping for a shift in topics before Winnie completely hid away in her shell, Alyssa asked, “What have you been doing while you’re here?”

Winnie hesitated, like she was gauging if she wanted to ask Alyssa to leave now, then answered, “Rehearsing. A lot. I’m sorry I couldn’t actually go to the theater.”

“It’s okay,” Alyssa assured her. “Nobody is mad at you.” She paused. “Is it-- tomorrow-- will it be hard for you?”

“It’s not the theater I’m scared of.”

Alyssa shivered. Her body suddenly felt like it was crawling with caterpillars.

“Oh.”

It was the only reply Alyssa could muster in that moment of rawness.

Winnie shifted, then shrugged lightly. The oversized T-shirt she was wearing slid down slightly when she did so, and Alyssa could see the paleness of peach-colored bandages wrapped around her right shoulder. She tried not to think about the gaping wound when she saw it.

“I think it’ll be okay,” Winnie said. “The show, I mean. We’re all really good. I’m still nervous, though.”

“I think everyone is,” Alyssa said. “We all seemed pretty jittery today at practice.”

Winnie nodded. She fiddled with the hem of her shirt. Something was definitely on her mind. 

“Angie also lets me use her laptop while she’s gone,” The girl went on. “So I can do my homework. But usually I just stay in here when she’s at the theater. Yesterday we watched a movie together.”

Alyssa smiled. “That’s sweet.” She shifted. The curiosity was too much. She plunged. “Winnie…what happened?”

Winnie’s hands stopped fidgeting. She folded them mutely in her lap, not looking at Alyssa.

“I’m sorry,” Alyssa said, realizing she was pushing the boundaries. “I shouldn’t ha--”

“He showed me videos.”

Alyssa faltered. “What?”

“Nick. He showed me videos.”

“Of…of what?”

“You. And Emma. And Hayden. And some of the ensemble. And others. But never Angie or Barry or Trent or even Dee Dee.”

That was definitely anger in her voice. It was faint, but there. 

What was she talking about?

“What were we doing?” 

Did Nick show this child weird, inappropriate videos of them before stabbing her?

“Talking. About me.”

Alyssa’s stomach was starting to twist itself into knots. She didn’t know exactly what Winnie was talking about, but she had a feeling--

“You know, Nick may have stabbed me and he may have been a jerk, but at least he was honest. He told the truth. He said things to my face. He didn’t lure me on.” Winnie looked up at her, and her eyes were suddenly full of fire. “He didn’t talk behind my back.” 

That did it.

The realization hit Alyssa like a freight train, so hard that she actually sucked in a soft, sharp breath and held it in as she looked into Winnie’s eyes. The pain, the betrayal, the distrust, the  _ anger _ \-- She could see it all so clearly, now.

Was Winnie only just opening herself up now or had she always been this easy to read and see, and Alyssa and everyone else had simply never bothered to look hard enough?

“Oh, Winnie, I’m-- I’m so sorry--” Alyssa was floundering. She knew apologies were mandatory for something like this, but would they even do anything to help? Was there even a point in bothering with them? It felt kind of awkward to say them after everything else that had been said. “I didn’t mean--”

She stopped herself. What else could she have meant with all the things that Nick could have caught on video?

Deep down, Alyssa knew it really wasn’t that big of a deal. When it came to performing arts or just life in general, not everyone was going to like you. But, damnit, Winnie was a  _ child  _ hearing god knows what kind of offensive stuff from a bunch of  _ adults _ \- adults that were meant to guide her and help her and make her a part of things despite her age.

Alyssa had said they were friends. She couldn’t begin to imagine how much it must have hurt Winnie to be backstabbed in such a way.

_ Funny, _ Alyssa thought in morbid ruefulness.  _ Looks like Winnie had been stabbed twice in one day. _

__ “I’m sorry,” Alyssa finally said, not knowing what else to say. 

“I know,” Winnie replied. “You’re nice like that.”

Not nice enough to not talk shit about someone seven years younger than her, apparently.

Winnie didn’t offer Alyssa anything further, but this was not a surprise because, Alyssa thought, when did she or anyone else in the cast ever do that for Winnie? She and the others forced her to live in a world where she had to compete for their positivity, and now Winnie had none to spare for her. 

But she knew, even as she thought it, that it too was a disservice- it was too grandiose, a little too perfect as a metaphor, the sort of thing her old English teacher would have underlined and ticked in a Creative Writing task using bright green ink.  _ Well Done! Good Use of Symbolism! :D _

Really, she and everyone else who may have been in those videos were assholes, and she didn’t deserve to see poetic justice in Winnie being less than moved by her own histrionics.

Hadn’t she once, back in high school, been the one to keep things like this from happening? Hadn’t she boasted about how she was the knight in shining armor of the campus? The peacemaker, the pacifist, the Bully Patrol, the one who stepped in before someone could get hurt, whether it be physically, mentally, or verbally. She realized now that she had stooped down to the level of the exact people she constantly tried to stop all those years ago.

Her past self would be ashamed.

They sat in awkward silence for a long, painful moment. Or, awkward for Alyssa, at least. Surprisingly, Winnie looked vaguely proud of herself, like she wasn’t used to laying into someone like that, at least not without retribution. Alyssa didn’t think she had ever seen her so confident before.

“I think about it a lot,” Winnie said, pushing back the iron curtain that had slid out between them. “I try not to, but…it always comes circling back. Sometimes I dream about it, too.”

“About--”

“The videos. The knife. The blood. Nick. About lots of things.” Winnie said. “I--” She faltered for a moment, eyebrows twitching together as she tipped her head up. She seemed to be trying to figure out the right wording for what she wanted to say. “I’m not mad in the way I think I probably should be. In the way I’m sure other people think I should be. At Nick, I mean.”

Alyssa was surprised. “Really?”

Winnie nodded. “Yeah. Before everyone came rushing in, he said it was a mistake. He didn’t mean it. I think he was going to use the knife to intimidate me, but he was holding it too close, so when I turned around to him, it stabbed me. Or maybe I turned too fast and it startled him so he stabbed me. I don’t know, but he said he was just going to scare me. Why he brought a real knife to do that is beyond me. Maybe there weren’t any realistic fake ones?”

Alyssa didn’t know how Winnie was so mellow towards the man who had stabbed her. She was certainly enraged just by the thought of him, and she hadn’t even been the one to be attacked.

“That doesn’t excuse what he did to you.”

“Oh, I know,” Winnie said. “Of course I know that. I’m just saying that I’m not mad in the way I probably should be.” She paused for a moment, then went on, “Miss Angie is, though.”

“She is?”

“Uh-huh,” Winnie nodded again. “I can tell even when she doesn’t say it. She kinda gets this look in her eyes and she twitches her legs like her first instinct is to kick. And sometimes I can feel her shaking when she’s comforting me if I have a nightmare and I know it’s because she’s angry over what happened.”

Alyssa didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? Would Winnie even believe anything that came out of her mouth after the videos?

She didn’t know, so she settled on, “I see.”

“I know you probably feel weird now,” Winnie said. “But I’m glad you came over. I just wished it was ‘cause you liked me and not because you feel sorry for me.”

_ That  _ snapped Alyssa out of her guilty reverie. She sat up straight, and Winnie raised her eyebrows at her slightly, as if she had noticed it, too.

“This is not a pity thing,” Alyssa said.

She was usually such a good liar, but she could hear the falsehood oozing between her own words. The lie was thick in the back of her throat, sticky, like honey meant to trap flies.

“I don’t feel sorry for you.”

Again, the thick, tacky, choking lie.

Winnie laughed. Actually laughed, though it was hollow and rueful. “Yes, you do.  _ I _ feel sorry for me. Like, when I think about it-- like, it’s not me I’m thinking about but someone else. I think of all the things that have ever happened to me my whole life and imagine it’s happening to some other girl.” She gave Alyssa a tight, sad smile that made Alyssa feel like her heart was being ripped right out of her chest. “I feel so sorry for her that it hurts. And then it makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Alyssa said quickly.

“No, I mean like-- there must be. Because no one else felt sorry for me and I was an actual real person. Or, they did feel sorry for me, but not sorry enough that it made any difference.” She shrugged. “So it’s worse than useless.”

Alyssa swallowed thickly. She felt sick. She felt angry. She felt pitiful. She didn’t know what she felt. All she really knew was that her heart hurt badly and she wanted to throw up.

“I’m excited for tomorrow,” Winnie said, and the jarring shift in topic could have given Alyssa whiplash. “I finally get to prove all of you wrong.” She glanced at the platter of cookies sitting nearby. “Thanks for the cookies.”


	8. Pre-Prom Jitters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact! all the chapter names have been from parts of the Carrie soundtrack! chapters about Alyssa have titles from the 2013 movie OST, chapters about Emma have titles from the 2002 movie OST, and chapters about Winnie have titles from the musical OST (both 1988 and 2012)! this is the only chapter that doesn’t abide by that because it features all three of them, so it has a title from the 1976 soundtrack!

**Carrie: The Musical**

**Carrie White- Guinevere Thompson**

**Margaret White- Dee Dee Allen**

**Sue Snell- Alyssa Greene**

**Tommy Ross- Emma Nolan**

**Chris Hargensen- Kaylee Klein**

**Billy Nolan- Greg Nolan**

**Miss Gardener and Interrogator 1- Angie Dickinson**

**Mr. Stephens, Reverend Bliss, and Interrogator 2- Barry Glickman**

**Frieda- Hayden Shield**

**Norma- Linda Speelman**

**Helen- Natalie Saunders**

**George- Kyle Lim**

**Stokes- Marcus Brown**

**Freddy- Noah Smithson**

**Ensemble Members-**

**Jess Roman**

**Alex Jackson**

**Kay Myers**

**OJ Hurst**

**Elisha Irvine**

**Emily Pike**

**Foster Stacey**

**Christy Willis**

**Bee Lam**

* * *

**Emma**

It was the opening night of _Carrie: The Musical_ and the sun was just starting its descent in the sky, bleeding pastel pink across grey-blue clouds. There was no big storm in the forecast that day, just mist and fog, which was good because thunder and lightning might knock out the lights and ruin all the tech.

It was just one of those evenings that was so refreshing and peaceful that you HAD to be doing something nice. The sunset reached in through your window and dragged you towards it, flinging you out and out and out into the beautiful, mind-numbing twilight. You had to drive or hike or hang out with friends because an evening this perfect may never come again.

And sometimes you had to make sure some hyperactive ensemble members picked out their necessary costumes for their characters because they’re indecisive and decided to wait until the last minute to do so and now you have to rush through the costume room before the already-overly-stressed director finds out and yells at all of you.

“Can you guys take any longer?” Emma said as she was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “I have to get ready, too!”

“We still have time,” Kay said dismissively. “Besides, this is fun!”

“That’s what you call this?” Emma raised an eyebrow. The costume room looked like a tornado had blown through it because of these nine hooligans. 

“Yes!”

Emma rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. Her gaze slid over to Bee, who was comparing two different t-shirts to each other.

“You know,” She said, “nothing is going to go with that dinosaur earring.”

Bee’s hand instantly shot up to his right ear, tentatively touching the glittering green stegosaurus earring he was wearing like he was making sure it was still there. He ruffled, glaring at Emma.

“It is COOL!” Bee barked. “God, you are SO RUDE! I don’t even know if I WANT to perform anymore!”

“Oh no!” Christy whipped around, sending the train of a rose gold dress she was holding right into Emily’s face. She didn’t pay any mind to her sputtering. “No way! You’re going!”

“Emma has demoralized me,” Bee said. 

“I gave constructive criticism,” Emma defended herself coolly.

“You were MEAN!”

“I am very sorry,” Emma said, putting a hand on her heart. “You’re right. Your fashion sense is very cool.”

Bee arched his eyebrows at Emma, then turned his nose up haughtily and went back to comparing shirts. Emma snorted.

“I couldn’t imagine not performing,” Foster said. “After all the work we’ve done and all the time we’ve spent on it?” They shook their head. “That would suck.”

“I thought that was going to happen for a moment there,” Emily said, having recovered from being hit in the face with Christy’s dress. “Because…you know…”

They did know. And they weren’t supposed to talk about it, but _some people_ apparently didn’t get the memo.

“Do you really think she’ll show up?” Alex asked them all.

“She better,” Christy said. “We haven’t worked this hard for nothing!”

“Have some faith,” Emma cut in. “She’ll show up.”

“Well, if no one is going to say it, I hope she’ll be okay,” OJ said. “She got stabbed three days ago and now she’s going to perform a whole musical as the lead character with stitches still in her arm.”

“And you use your arms a lot,” Elisha added.

OJ stared at her. “Thank you, Elisha. I did not know that.”

Elisha grinned, then whisked off to another rack of clothes to look through.

“Performing with stitches can’t be _that hard_ ,” Kay said.

Jess scoffed. “I beg to differ. It’s literally just a piece of string holding flesh together. It can’t be difficult to pop the thread.”

“Wait, what do we do if that happens?” Bee looked slightly nervous. Not over the girl in question, but at the idea of the show being interrupted and ruining the flow. “Do we stop?”

There was a brief moment of silence as they all exchanged looks, which wasn’t very comforting. Not even know-it-all OJ seemed to know what would happen.

“I guess we just…pray?” Foster said unsurely.

“We hope that that doesn’t happen,” Emma said. 

“Do you think these go with my skin?” Emily spoke back up. She was holding some iridescent scarves. “Or dress? I already bought it. It’s royal blue.”

“Finally, someone who is slightly prepared!” Emma said.

“I think they do!” Elisha said. “Here, let me help you with them.” 

Elisha padded over to Emily and helped her drape the silky scarves around her neck and chest and arms. They rippled in glittering rainbow shades against her skin.

“You two are HOPELESS!” Jess suddenly barked. She bundled Elisha out of the way and began rearranging the scarf herself. “Haven’t you ever worn a decorative scarf before? They can’t hang this way or else it’ll be hard to move your arms. And, besides, everyone knows a double wrap around the neck is most flattering.” 

The others all burst into laughter as Elisha blinked and Emily held still so Jess could “properly” adjust the scarf.

“There!” Jess stood back, admiring her handiwork with a nod of triumph.

“It looks exactly the same,” Elisha observed.

“That’s because you are gay and have no fashion sense,” Jess said, bopping her on the nose. She glided back over to some yellow dresses she had been looking at.

“It’s true,” Foster nodded vigorously. “Gays don’t have any fashion sense.”

“Can confirm,” Emma said. “I am gay.”

“Oooo, let’s go look at the jewelry!” Christy suddenly said. 

“Ugh, jewelry,” Bee groaned.

“Dinosaur earring,” Emma reminded him.

“Shut up!!”

“You make it too easy!”

* * *

**Winnie**

Saying Winnie was nervous was the biggest understatement of the century.

She was fucking _terrified._

Ever since she had gotten done with her hair and makeup, she couldn’t stop pacing. Back and forth, back and forth- she walked up and down her dressing room enough times to have carved a trench through the floor. She was kind of surprised to see that there was no path at all, but let it drop from her mind rather quickly. She had lines to go over.

She did her best to calm herself. She thought she would feel better after her family finally agreed to come (getting stabbed definitely helped soften them just a little), but that just made her even more nervous. Now she had to be perfect.

But if she wasn’t… 

How would she recover from that?

Simple. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be able to go on if this all blew up in her face.

She had considered it many times before. Suicide. She learned that word at school. The slaughtering of one’s self. Knowing it sent a strange thrill through her.

She didn’t know how she would do it. Maybe with a huge kitchen knife, similar to the one Nick had stabbed her with. She would slice down her arms like she was gutting a fish, like those kids in her old Geography class had once joked about, severing every vein so death would be for sure. 

Or maybe she would turn her dress for the Prom into a noose (once she learned how to tie one) and hang herself from the lighting mechanisms. Would she die instantly from a broken neck or would she be strangled for several minutes? Would her lightweight body be heavy enough or would she have to swing there and gag until her lungs gave out? 

Or maybe she could jump off the catwalk or drink all the cleaning chemicals in the storage closet or eat glass and slowly choke to death on her own blood. 

Maybe she could set fire to the house and sit in the cushioned chairs, sipping from her water bottle, letting the flames be her fury, burning and charring and devouring everything about her failure. 

Then, finally, she would be at peace.

Winnie sat down at the chair in front of the makeup table, then instantly stood up again, too anxious to sit. She resumed pacing, trying to keep her breathing steady, trying to keep her nerves from taking over.

She looked down at her phone. There were no good luck texts, but that was okay.

Winnie couldn’t breathe. Tears were welling up in her eyes. Her chest felt like it was about to burst open.

She paced again. Her legs were weak, knees knocking together like silver spoons. She thought she may collapse or faint completely.

“It’s going to be okay,” Winnie whispered to herself, a tear slipping down her cheek. She clawed it away.

On the makeup table, her phone buzzed.

 **Mom:** _Good luck, Guinevere. Impress us._

* * *

**Alyssa**

“Will you stop fidgeting?” Alyssa scolded lightly from above Kaylee’s head. She was helping her co-star and now very close friend do her hair in an elegant and slightly-pompous wavy style for her character, but Kaylee was making it very difficult to do so by the way she kept jittering in her chair. “I’m gonna accidentally pull your hair if you don’t. Or maybe I’ll just do it on purpose. We’ll see.”

“Sorry!” Kaylee said. “I’m just excited! And nervous.”

“I can tell,” Alyssa laughed slightly. “Who did you invite again?”

“My parents and sister,” Kaylee said. “Who then brought my entire family. So if you hear shrieking whenever I simply BREATHE onstage, that’s probably them.”  
Alyssa laughed. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Oh, and,” Kaylee smirked. “A girl.”

Alyssa raised an eyebrow. “A girl?”

“Yup,” Kaylee nodded. “Her name is Shelby Gonzalez.”

“Oooo!” Alyssa cooed in interest. “She better be good to you for this. She’s getting to see a musical on opening night!”

“She is good, trust me,” Kaylee said. “She’s _really good_.” She sighed dreamily, then snapped out of her lovestruck giddiness, sitting up straight. “Who did you bring?”

“My mom and a few other family members,” Alyssa said. “Plus a few friends in the area. Anyone who would listen to me blabber about it.”

Kaylee laughed. “I know that feeling, sister.”

Alyssa finished Kaylee’s hair and stepped back. “There! Now you’re gonna have fun AND look amazing!”

Kaylee’s eyes lit up even more than they already were. She got up from the chair she was seated in and pivoted in front of the mirror in their dressing room, examining herself from all sides. Then, she turned to Alyssa with a huge smile.

“Thanks, Alyssa,” She said. “You’re the best!”

Alyssa smiled back at her. “Tell me something I don’t already know!”

“Kinda sucks that you don’t get to do the prom sequence with us,” Kaylee said as she began looking through a selection of jewelry. “I mean, neither am I, technically, but still. I bet Emma was looking forward to you in a dress.” And then she nudged Alyssa with a big, teasing grin.

Alyssa nudged her back. “Yeah, but at least I’m here,” She said. “God, this is really happening.”

“I know right!” Kaylee beamed. “This is what we’ve been waiting for!”

“Exactly,” Alyssa beamed. “It’s going to be amazing!”

“On in fifteen!” Someone from out in the hallway yelled.

“Shall we?” Kaylee grinned at her.

“We shall!” Alyssa grinned back, and the two of them walked out of the dressing room.

The backstage was a mess when they stepped down the staircase leading up to the dressing rooms. Alyssa felt like she’d been flung into a war movie with the amount of running around and screaming that was going on around her, and she could already feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead in the hot, thick air of the wings. Footsteps trampled heavily as people fretted over costumes, over makeup, over props…

Over the fact that the teenager who got stabbed three days ago was playing the lead role.

“It’s okay, we’re okay, we’re good to go,” Noah muttered to the far left, shaking in visible distress, running a hand through his newly-greased locks. His eyebrows were drawn in considerably more than usual, and he looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. A girl at his side looked remarkably similar in her emotional state but didn’t move from her place of wrapping a mic around Marcus.

The whole cast was bustling around, all in various stages of mentally prepared. There was still fifteen minutes until the show began, but in theater, fifteen minutes was essentially fifteen seconds if you were stressed out enough. And clearly, everyone was. 

Hayden and Natalie didn’t stand far apart, despite Hayden’s current position of being fretted over by two technicians, chatting with each other in a vain attempt to calm their nerves. Greg was tucked against the wall, murmuring his lines to himself. Linda stood ready, looking out of the crevices between the curtains, but even she was slightly pale. Dee Dee and Barry looked as calm as they always were when it came to performing, seeming out of place considering the hectic nature of the environment, and Angie was going around giving pep talks to everyone.

And then, there was Winnie, standing alone, clenching and unclenching her hands. Alyssa excused herself from Kaylee and walked over to her.

“Hey, Winnie,” Alyssa said, keeping her voice low.

Winnie glanced at her. “Hi.” 

“You ready to do this thing?”

Winnie nodded. Alyssa noticed that her shoulder wasn’t bandaged anymore. This would be the first time she would see the scar since That Day.

Blood flashed behind Alyssa’s eyes and she quickly shifted her mind to something else.

“You’re gonna do great,” Alyssa said, offering an encouraging smile.  
Another glance. “Thanks,” Winnie said. “You, too.”

“Well, gang,” Emma’s voice suddenly cut through all the bustling. All the actors were coming together, so Alyssa and Winnie quickly joined the huddle. “We’re about to begin!”

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Natalie said in awe.

“I know right!” Greg said, excitement in his face, despite the paleness. 

“We’re all going to do great,” Barry told them all.

They continued to go around encouraging each other, but the reality of the situation quickly set in.

In less than five minutes, Alyssa was going to be performing in front of hundreds of people, some of which were her family, already feeling like she had forgotten all the lines, blocking, and choreography for the character she was about to parade around as. 

Holy fuck. She better not die.

The stage lights soon dimmed, and they could all hear Trent’s voice come over the loudspeaker.

_“Hello, Chamberlain High School! Your principal here with today’s announcements! First thing’s first, we are undergoing some major renovations right now. The plaster has been repaired, new paint now adorns our walls, the heating system has been upgraded, and our new seats will be installed soon. Thank you very much for your patience and support!_

_Remember, the use of photography and/or video or audio recording is strictly prohibited in the school. If you do it, I will find you._

_Prom souvenirs are now available! You may purchase them in the lobby once we are done here, and, no, you may not use your lunch card to buy a T-shirt. But! You can use cash or credit card with your parent’s permission._

_This week’s school week will be pretty hectic with Prom going on. If you are sensitive to things like bullying, child abuse, swearing, blood, religious themes, unflattering depictions of religion, loud noises, and/or flashing lights--”_

There was some laughter from the audience.

_“--then I suggest you call your parents and have them take you home now._

_Alright, now it’s time to put away your cell phones and other noise making devices! That includes you, Mister Nolan. You should know this by now. It distracts you from your educational experience._

_Those are your announcements for today! This is your principal signing off! Go eagles!”_

All the lights went out completely.

A small part of Alyssa, the part of her that she had been trying to suppress, wished that she had heard Trent say that a fire had started in the building so she wouldn’t have to step on stage, but no such luck. 

“Break a leg!” Emma whispered somewhere from the darkness of the wings.

Alyssa sucked a breath in. This was it.

She lifted her leg and stepped onto the pitch black stage.

It truly was going to be a night they’ll never forget.


	9. Young Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is Carrie: but More because this isn’t how the musical actually goes but I’m Extra

**Sue “Alyssa” Snell**

Everything was dark.

Dark figures were weaving through the halls, casting distorted shadows across the smoldering ground. 

Roaring flames tore across the lockers and walls, swallowing posters and displayed projects, leaping onto fleeing victims with swift brutality. 

A pair of students were seizing on the ground, engulfed in fire. 

One of the senior class English teachers was screaming in pain from somewhere beyond. 

A boy was lying motionless, face-down, blood pooling around him.

Some kids were grappling in the fire, swinging impromptu weapons or fleeing for their lives from something that wasn’t there.

They were all crying. All of them. Crying.

And then, darkness.

Something blinding and painful stabbed straight into Alyssa’s eyes.

“ _Name_ , please.”

She raised her hand to try and protect herself from the light. It seemed to be trying to blind her.

“State your full name.” 

She looked up, squinting through the brightness. She thought she could see two people somewhere in front of her, looming over her, ready to pick her brain.

“You already know my name, it's Sue! Susan Snell.” 

“And you were born in the town of…?”

“Chamberlain, Maine. I was born and raised there.” 

“What can you tell us about Carrie White?”

At the sound of that damn, Alyssa noticed something that she hadn’t noticed before. There was a…presence…all around her. She couldn’t see who was there, but she could feel them nearby, waiting, watching. She looked up again. 

“What do you want to know?”

“When did you first meet her?” There was a second voice, which would explain the two silhouettes she saw. This one was from a woman.

“In elementary school. We weren’t in the same grade, but I saw her all the time. She isn’t exactly hard to miss with that red hair.” She squinted up at the light. “Can you turn that down, please? I can’t see.”

“Were you a friend of hers?” The male voice asked, ignoring her request.

“Carrie didn’t have friends,” Alyssa answered without a beat.

“Really?” The male voice said. “When I was in school, even the losers had birds of a feather.”

Alyssa scoffed at his assumptions. “Carrie wasn’t a loser,” She said. “She just didn’t belong.”

“And why is that?” The male pressed.

“It’s not rocket science.” Alyssa said. “We are talking about Carrie White.”

“Maybe she didn’t want to belong.”

“Everybody wants to belong,” Alyssa said. Her dark eyes flickered. “Anybody who tells you they don’t is lying.”

The figures were quiet for a moment, considering her.

“Tell us about the night of May 28th- about the occurrences that led up to the alleged event.” The male voice finally said. His words stirred something inside of Alyssa, as she slowly lowered her arm to stare up in disbelief. 

“‘ _Alleged_ event?’” Alyssa said, slightly repulsed. “Why do you keep asking the same thing over and over again?” She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “You want to catch me in a lie, is that it?”

“We need the truth.” The male voice said.

“I’ve already told you what I know!” Alyssa said, exasperated, then extremely tired. “How many times do we have to go through this?”

“Until it makes sense.” The male voice said.

“Until we understand.” The female voice said, slightly gentler. 

“What you _need_ to _understand_ is that we were just kids…” 

The presences were getting closer, creeping up on her like starving predators. She could _feel_ their bloodlust, their hunger, their wrath. It was heavy in the air like a thick, dark smog.

“Kids trying to do our best…”

Alyssa slowly rose out of her chair like the prey she was.

“We were _kids_.”

_“ Stop. Go. Who am I? Move. Ha! Come on, come in.”_

_Father, mother, teacher, preacher,”_

Alyssa turned to run, but they were there, behind her, around her, upon her. They blocked her path, surrounding her, reaching with desperate fingers and clawing hands. 

_“FAILURE!”_

She jumped back, heart skipping a beat. Sweat beaded all along her forehead. Her eyes bulged and rolled wildly in her skull. She didn’t think she was in the interrogation room anymore.

_“Am I? Am I? Am I? Am I?”_

The darkness was suffocating- the overwhelming heat from the vengeful bodies all around her was worse. She felt like she was covered by a mountain of corpses, and she may as well have been because-- because these people--

_“NO!”_

She found herself screaming with them that time. She covered her ears, screwed her eyes shut, and hunched over, trying to block out their presence, their voices, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t make them go away. They were there and it was torture and it didn’t make sense because-- because--

_“Am I stupid? Am I hopeless?_

_Violence! Silence! Broken. Used. Black. Bruised.”_

This wasn’t right. Was she in Hell? Had the crazy old White woman been right all along about its existence? It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be--

_“What about me? What about me?”_

There was a shift in the flow around her. The darkness seemed to recede. She looked up, barely breathing, seeing through a haze of what she hoped was just tears and not b--

_“I dream! I drown! I wait!”_

Brightness, but not like the brightness that had blinded her in that damn interrogation room. This was fluorescent and familiar, tame. Not actively trying to burn her eyes out of her sockets.

And then, something ticked in her mind.

What interrogation room? She had no memory of such a thing, though her having to bail Kaylee out of jail for underage drinking didn’t sound too out of the question.

Around her, the student body of Chamberlain High parted, mulling around the floor with the zombie-like stature you would usually see in teenagers. Alyssa partially blamed it on the backpacks. They really did a number on your back after a while!

_“Everyday, I just pray. Every move I make is right.”_

OJ hurried across the floor, shoving books into his bag as he went after Foster and Kay. Alex whizzed by Alyssa on black heelys while Elisha chortled and Jess yelled something that went unheard over the din of noise filling the hall. Bee and Christy were talking avidly over something, which Alyssa couldn’t quite hear, either, and Emily was playing on her phone.

_“Where I go, who I know. Will I be alone on Saturday night?”_

Alyssa felt something against her side. She turned to meet the beautiful, beaming smile of her girlfriend, who had her arm locked around her own. She couldn’t help but smile back.

_“And I worry, what if I stand out one bit?_

_I worry, what can I possibly do to fit in?_

_Perfect clothes. Nose. The perfect skin, face, all ace!”_

Emma tugged her along as they went by. Alyssa’s muscles felt oddly relaxed once she started moving, as if she had been poised in one position for hours.

_“Both my folks. Total jokes.”_

_“All they do is chew my ass!”_ Kaylee and Greg yelled.

_“Blah! Blah! Blah! Blah! Blah! Blah! Blah!”_

_“They should just be glad I make it to class!”_ Natalie, Marcus, and Noah sang.

_“I don't worry, if I blow my SAT's,”_

Alyssa saw OJ raise his hand and mutely say, “I do.”

Foster pushed his arm down.

_“I worry, what can I possibly do?_

_To squeeze in, pow! Why not now? When will I belong?_

_Look where I am, damn! My whole life feels wrong!_

_What if I do snap? Holy crap!_

_I'd crawl out of my skin! And so would you,_

_'Cuz life just doesn't begin. Until your in.”_

At the ring of the bell, everyone began to scatter. The gym coach came striding out, clad in a teal tank top and black Adidas track pants. A matching Adidas jacket was tied around her waist, revealing her rippling muscles to wandering eyes. Her trademarked silver whistle bounced against her chest as she began calling out any stragglers. 

“Don’t you all have somewhere to be?” Angie said.

Greg sauntered up to her, drinking in her thickly-muscled form with his hungry eyes. “There’s somewhere I’d like to be, Miss G…” 

Angie was anything but amused. “What are you, Mister Nolan, twelve?”

Alyssa laughed at their banter, only to be tugged into a kiss by Emma. She sank into it, relishing the heat of her girlfriend--

( _her girlfriend_ )

\--against her.

“Tommy Ross!” Angie’s voice then cut through the passion. “Watch those hands.” She narrowed her eyes slyly at them. “And definitely no tongue.”

Emma pulled away from Alyssa, laughing softly. “Yes, ma’am,” She saluted to the coach.

“Hey, you two!” Kaylee called over to them, grinning mischievously. “Get a room!”

Alyssa and Emma both stuck their tongues out at her.

“And you, Chris Hargensen!” Angie spotted Alyssa’s friend. “Lose the gum before class.”

“Where should I put it, Miss Gardener?” Kaylee asked sweetly.

“You can choke on it for all I care,” Angie matched her feigned tone. “Just get it out of your mouth.” She turned her head to a passing figure. “Carrie White, get a move on! Gym class in two minutes!”

A blur of red and green passed Alyssa by. Alyssa didn’t pay it much mind, parting with Emma with a goodbye kiss and then walking off to the locker room to get changed.

_“Ha ah ah ah!_

_Ha ah ah ah!_

_God, it’s rough. Stayin’ tough._

_Wonderin’ what the world will say._

_‘Make a plan!’ ‘Be a man!’_

_All this frickin’ bullshit gets in the way!”_

Alyssa and her gym classmates emerge from the locker room, wearing blank white t-shirts and blue shorts. The sound of a tussel among the boys (and Emma) disappeared as the quarrel was herded away.

_“I go crazy!_

_Nobody cares what it does to me!”_

They began to stretch to the beat of the music that was playing throughout the gym. Angie observed them, nodding slowly in approval, holding a volleyball underneath one of her arms. A small, hunched girl shuffled over with her head to the ground, face completely concealed by her red hair flopped over her crown. Her arms were drawn tightly around her stomach and she lingered on the edge of the group, too shy to intervene with them.

_“And it's crazy!_

_I would go out of my mind.”_

“Carrie White, get in the game!” Angie shouted to the lone girl. She tossed the volleyball into the group, which immediately parted into teams. “Go on, ladies!”

_“To be in, shit!_

_In is it!_

_What comes close to that?_

_Until you’ve been_

_In_

_You ain’t where it’s at.”_

Alyssa got into a defensive position, eyes narrowed into slits and hands out. Kaylee got into the same stance at her side and flashed her a smirk before lunging up to hit the ball that flew across the gym. Alyssa copied her when it came back over, and this process repeated until a girl on the other side missed and the white ball landed on the floor with a loud _thunk_. Christy ran to grab it so they could begin again.

_“Cuz when you're out--_

_Well!_

_Life is Hell_

_You can never win,”_

Angie signaled for the girls to get ready, and Alyssa prepared to get her team another point.

_“There's no doubt,_

_That life just doesn't begin_

_Until you’re--”_

But they didn’t. 

Because the ball was hit far and the girl who was supposed to be occupying the back space was standing at the edge of the gym, arms still wrapped around her stomach, and staring dumbly through a snarl of red hair at the ball that whizzed past her.

All eyes turned to Carrie [ _Winnie_ ] White, the frog amongst swans.

Immediately, there was a loud swell of annoyed groans as the game was halted. Winnie flinched away, hunching her shoulders in instinctively.

( _was that a wince of pain she saw?)_

“Way to go, Carrie!” Linda yelled, her voice snarked with disgust and displeasure for the girl in question. Though, that wasn’t very unusual in this school.

Winnie was only fifteen, a sophomore and two grades below Alyssa, but Alyssa had known her since elementary school--and thinking about that made a weird feeling of deja vu spark within her for a moment. 

But everyone did. Everyone knew about Ol’ Prayin’ Carrie and her crazy mother, and that made her a target for even the lowest of losers. There’d been years worth of teasing and messing around with this girl. School days full of pinching and tripping and knocking books over. Peanut butter smeared in so-red-it-must-be-dyed-with-blood hair when she was sleeping in Algebra and inappropriate notes slipped into her binders. Scorpions put into her shoes, thumbtacks poised on her chairs, lunches dumped over her head. Dozens of games created to see who could make Winnie cry first or who could make Winnie get down on her knees and pray to God or who could dunk Winnie underwater the most at summer camp. Slurs and rude nicknames were tossed her way, worms were put in her food, and spit was spat on her as she passed by. People laughed when she presented, people begged the teacher to switch partners when they were put into a group with her, people destroyed her work so she would have nothing to turn in when she got to certain classes.

Everyone made fun of Carrie [ _Winnie_ ] White, and if she knew this, she never did anything about it.

“Yeah, way to blow the game!” Hayden barked.

Winnie recoiled away from them as the group began to part slightly, only to bump into Alyssa. 

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Alyssa growled, jumping away. She ended up backing straight into Natalie’s side, and Natalie, thinking she needed protection, threw her arms around her and glared at Winnie.

“Loser!” Kaylee yelled, shoving Winnie so hard the girl nearly fell over.

“That’s enough, girls!” Angie yelled, shooting them all warning glares. “Hit the showers! Go change up!”

“‘Oh, I can’t hit the ball! I can’t hit the ball!’” Linda cried woefully in an awful imitation of Winnie’s voice. She whacked the top of Winnie’s head with her knuckles as she walked by. “Hit the ball, stupid!”

Winnie flinched back so hard she almost knocked herself over. She backed away from them all, watching everyone walk back to the locker room like a plaintive calf waiting to be herded into the slaughterhouse. Alyssa wrinkled her nose at her, while Kaylee rolled her eyes. The girl was so pitiful that it was just pathetic.

“Do you think she’s retarded?” Linda asked loudly.

Alyssa merely shrugged. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Winnie kneel on the floor and rolled her eyes at what that meant.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Amen.”

Winnie looked up and something strange flashed in her eyes. Alyssa thought she felt the entire world shift around her, as if it were being pulled apart at the seams.

_“And someday…_

_If I don't stand out one bit…”_

Alyssa and the other girls came forward with their clothes and began to change back into their regular outfits.

_“Oh someday_

_I may be normal enough to fit_

_In!”_

That weird feeling happened again, and this time, Alyssa felt like _she_ was being pulled apart at the seams. She looked around at her classmates, but they didn’t seem bothered by anything. 

All of their voices mixed into a hurricane of lost souls.

_“Geez, shoot me please!_

_Put me out of my pain!_

_Am I a mess?_

_Yes!_

_Totally insane!_

_If I am not missed,_

_I don’t exist_

_That’s the greatest sin!_

_I’d rather be shot!”_

There was a flash of red, and Alyssa actually found herself flinching slightly, expecting something. When she opened her eyes again, Winnie was still. She could no longer hear her voice.

Winnie turned and scampered away.

_“‘Cause, life just doesn’t begin_

_Doesn’t begin--_

_Doesn’t begin--_

_Doesn’t begin--_

_Doesn’t begin_

_Until you’re_

_IN!”_

( **_it’s okay. they loved it! they’re cheering so loud!_ **)

Shampoo of lavender and pear, coconut and watermelon, honey and vanilla all mixed together into an overwhelmingly sweet odor that wafted throughout the locker room. It was almost as thick as the steam whirling from the many hot showers going on, filling the space with warmth. White bars of soap were passed between hands and loud conversations were made over the sound of sputtering water from stall-to-stall. Sweat-saturated gym uniforms were peeled off and replaced with regular school clothes, jewelry, and expensive shoes. Girls pinched and poked one another playfully, tickling and catcalling and teasing. Alyssa even got a sports bra thrown at her face.

“I think this belongs to you,” Alyssa said, handing it back to Natalie.

“Oh! Thanks!” Natalie took it gratefully.

Alyssa looked at Kaylee, who shrugged. They both laughed.

“As I was saying!” Hayden said loudly. “Before I was RUDELY interrupted!” She shot a playful glare at Natalie, who stuck her tongue out at her in return. “You can become dehydrated from masturbating.”

Everyone stopped and looked at her.

“I am suddenly very discouraged to change in front of you heathens,” Elisha said, pulling her pants back up.

“How…how did we get onto this topic?” Alyssa asked, sounding slightly concerned.

“Oh, I heard someone say that we need to drink water or else we’ll become dehydrated,” Hayden answered.

“That was me!” Jess yelled. “DRINK YOUR WATER!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Hayden waved a hand at her. “But it’s FASCINATING! Like, the science behind masturbation is REALLY COOL.”

“I mean, I would assume you would become dehydrated,” Emily said as she was buttoning her shirt. “You’re literally releasing fluids from your body.”

“And how do you know this?” Alyssa questioned Hayden further.

“Oh, I wrote a paper!”

“Oh my god--”

“For my English class!”

“OH MY GOD--”

( **_wow the audience is laughing really hard. note to self, Alyssa: talk more about masturbation while onstage. masturbation = funny._ ** _)_

“You did not,” Linda said in disbelief.

“I did!”

“Wait, weren’t those essays supposed to have to do with societal problems?” Kaylee said.

Hayden’s smile did not falter. “Yes.”

Before any of them could press further on the subject, a scream suddenly ripped through the locker room. A split second later, none other than Carrie [ _Winnie_ ] White came sprinting out of one of the back stalls, wrapped in only a towel and crying hysterically.

Her hands were covered in blood.

( _an angry red scar glowed brightly on her right shoulder._ )

“Help me! Please, help me!”

Immediately, everyone jumped away when she came running. They formed a circle around the girl as she spun around to them, extending shaking, bloodied hands in terror.

“What the hell?” Linda said loudly. 

“Help me! Something is WRONG!”

“Oh my god, that’s blood!” Hayden called out.

“Some kind of freak seizure?” Natalie guessed.

“It’s Carrie,” Kaylee said, slightly amused.

“What’d she do now?” Linda said.

“She’s hurt,” Alyssa said.

They all leaned in to try and get a better look, but scrambled away when Winnie started moving again, not wanting to get dirty.

“I’m bleeding!” Winnie cried, running to Kaylee.

“Yuck!” Kaylee dove away. “Get away from me!”

That was when Alyssa noticed the trails of red running down Winnie’s inner thighs.

Winnie changed paths and frantically ran to Alyssa. Alyssa managed to snatch her by the wrists before she could grab her and held her at arm’s length. Winnie crumbled to her knees below her, mewling.

“I’m _dying_!”

“For God’s sake, Carrie--” Alyssa was both thoroughly amused and incredibly disgusted. “You’ve just got your period!”

Silence descended over the locker room. Winnie looked up at her, thick tangles of red hair hanging in her face, bare shoulders practically glowing under the fluorescents, tears running down on her cheeks. 

“Wh-what…?”

“It’s just your period!” Kaylee said in amusement to Winnie. She went over to her backpack and took out a tampon. She offered it to Winnie. “Just plug it up!”

Despite the moment of kindness, Winnie was far too shell-shocked and confused to understand what was going on, and so she reached out to Kaylee’s hand desperately, hoping for some kind of comfort. Kaylee instantly reeled away with a revolted gag when some of Winnie’s period blood smeared onto her fingers.

“Oh fuck!” She yelled. “I got some of her pussy juice on me!”

“Gross!” Natalie squealed.

“P-please help me!” Winnie howled. “I-I’m dying!”

“How do you not know what your period is?” Linda asked her. “Are you that retarded?”

Winnie merely let out a strangled whimper. She hunched over on the floor, wrapping her arms around her stomach. She shuddered in pain. 

“It hurts,” She moaned.

Her bright grey eyes were wide and shiny, and she was shaking so bad it looked like she was having a seizure. Clouds of blood rippled around her folded legs. Kay made a mock throwing up gesture. 

“Got your period?” Christy called.

Winnie blinked rapidly, her breath hitching. She lifted her hands slowly, watching them drip blood, and then raised them to the spectators, making a strangled sound of distress. Alyssa and Kaylee exchanged looks.

“Uhhhnnnh?” Winnie lowed wretchedly. She was like a confused cow calling for help.

 _She’s fifteen…_ Alyssa was thinking. _Surely she knows… This has to be some kind of joke._

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Jess said. She waggled a tampon in the air. “Know what this is?”

“Don’t even bother,” Kaylee said. She grabbed the tampon from Jess and hurled it at Winnie. “Plug it up, bitch!” 

The tampon struck Winnie in the head before falling into the bloody pool accumulating across the floor. Winnie flinched, but didn’t grab it. She just continued to shiver and hyperventilate and make choked, bovine noises. Frustration boiled in Alyssa’s veins.

“It’s your PERIOD, you stupid cow!” Alyssa shouted furiously. “You’re bleeding everywhere! Clean yourself up already!”

They expected Winnie to scream, to cry, to gobble helpless pleas to God, but she didn’t. Winnie just hunched in on herself and began to shake harder. She didn’t even clasp her hands together like she was praying or anything.

“PER-iod!”

It was impossible to discern who let out the first cry; Alyssa thought it may have been Linda, but it didn’t matter because once was enough.

Everyone began to join in.

“PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod!”

Winnie’s head snapped up again. Her eyes were even wider than they were before, pale irises flashing with terror, and the whites throbbed with intense wetness. Her mouth yawned open, but no noise came out. She just stared dumbly at all of them as she shivered. Alyssa’s face puckered with annoyance and disgust.

“PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod!”

Girls started running and grabbing their own menstrual items from their bags, still shouting as they did so. Peals of laughter shrieked noisily, rebounding off of the locker room walls and stabbing into ears.

“PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod!”

It was becoming a chant, an incantation, a hex of humiliation directed at a nearly-naked girl bleeding all over herself in a high school locker room. She just looked so dumb. It was easy to pity her, which Alyssa, for one, did, but it was also so easy to make fun of her. And it was fun to do so. She always gave such good reactions. And it was okay, Alyssa decided, because everyone was doing it. There was no harm in a little teasing. They weren’t hurting Winnie. Although, her face was becoming a strange shade of white…

Winnie crumpled over onto her side and several girls made a chorus of “EWW!” as period blood smeared around her. It sluiced into her long red hair, making Alyssa’s stomach turn in disgust. Winnie clamped her hands over her ears, curled into a tight ball, and whimpered.

“Plug it up, heifer!” Emily cackled, throwing a tampon at Winnie’s back. “Plug it up!”

Winnie moaned weakly in response and coiled up even tighter. Linda took her phone out and began to record the freak out.

“PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod!”

“PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod!”

“PER-IOD! PER-IOD! PER-IOD!!!”

By now, the yelling had been heard by Angie, who dropped her current paperwork on her desk and came striding out of her office to see what the commotion was.

“PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod!”

Alyssa shook off her doubt. Winnie always overreacted like this. It was fine. They were just having fun! It was Winnie’s own fault for not knowing and being so stupid.

“PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod!”

“HEY!”

The voice was booming thunder in the rain of mockery and tampons.

Angie was there in her blindingly blue tank top. She shoved her way through the wall of arms throwing tampons and pads, hitting several away with disapproving glares and sharp smacks, and finally got to the front.

“PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod!”

For a moment, Angie genuinely looked startled at the sight of one of her students curled into a fetal position on the floor, almost completely naked, barely breathing over her panic, and surrounded by blood. She stiffened and blinked, clearly not expecting this image of all things and definitely not having learned how to deal with it from her training to be a teacher. She gawked at the spattered mess that were Winnie’s legs, blood so dark it looked black, and then the tampons and pads lying around her like the unmelted remnants of a snowball fight. Everything clicked into place for her and her green eyes flashed with rage.

“PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod! PER-iod!”

“KNOCK IT OFF!!!” Angie roared. She spun around and seized Alyssa’s wrist in a near bone-crushing grip. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Alyssa flinched back slightly in shock. She had never been yelled at so intensely by her gym teacher or even grabbed at like this before. 

“She’s just got her period, that’s all,” Alyssa said dismissively.

“You disgust me,” Angie hissed. She glared at Alyssa so fiercely it was a wonder the girl didn’t burst into flames. She then turned that glare onto all her other students, face twisted in hatred and disappointment. The chanting had died off by then, and they could all hear the sniffles and whimpers Winnie was emitting on the floor.

“GET OUT!” Angie bellowed. “EVERYBODY! GET OUT! GET OUT!”

Several girls instantly scattered. A few had even already gotten dressed and fled the locker room before names could be written down. However, a few, like Alyssa and her friends, lingered around to see what would happen. 

“Carrie?” Angie said, softening her voice of all its barbs and thorns. She knelt down beside Winnie and set a hand on her back. “Carrie, come on.”

Winnie’s reaction to being touched was instantaneous- her eyes shot open wide and she sucked in a sharp, grating breath that made her entire body heave with the force of the gasp. Then, she began to shake even harder, limbs flailing, whimpers forming words.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She sobbed. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s alright,” Angie said, trying to pull Winnie up out of the red lake. “Come on. Come on.”

Winnie was in too deep in her panic to properly process the words. She spasmed and wailed in an awful, anguished way.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Winnie wept. She was pulled up into a sitting position against Angie’s chest. Her arms flew out and she began grabbing frantically at anything she could get her hands on. “Help me! HELP ME!!”

“Come on, stand up,” Angie encouraged softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“N-no, I-I can’t!” Winnie mewled. So desperate for comfort, she reached out to Angie for help, grasping onto her teal tank top with both bloody hands and hanging on like her life depended on it. “I can’t! I can’t!”

“Carrie, come on,” Angie tried again. If the period blood getting wiped on her skirt bothered her, she didn't show it. “Stand up. Can you stand up?”

“It hurts!” Winnie wailed. Her grip on Angie faltered and crumpled back into herself. “It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!”

Angie, who was usually so headstrong and sure of herself, looked dumbfounded. “Honey, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Alyssa, who had slowly sidled back over to the scene, stepped up next to Angie. The coach only momentarily glanced at her.

“I don’t think she knows it’s her period,” Alyssa told Angie softly. “I think it’s her first time.”

“NO!!” Winnie cried instantly. “No! No! No! No!” Her panic was building. Her shaking was getting worse.

“Sue, leave!” Angie snarled, glaring at Alyssa.

“But--”

“You aren’t helping!”

Winnie’s cries were getting louder and louder and more and more shrill by the second. She was practically heaving, her lanky little body jerking and spasming. She looked so much more thin without any clothes to cover her skeletal frame. 

“Carrie! Alright, Carrie!” Angie said loudly as the collar of her teal tank top was grappled onto again and tugged on desperately. “Carrie? Carrie!”

Winnie frenzied harder. Angie pursed her lips, raised a hand, and smacked Winnie smartly on her cheek. An overhead light fizzed out and exploded.

Winnie dissolved into loud, fearful sobs. Angie tucked her head underneath her chin, pulling the poor girl closer to her. Winnie’s panicking did not seize as she continued to gasp and wheeze helplessly.

“Shh, shh,” Angie soothed her. She stroked her fingers through Winnie’s wet hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay, honey.”

Winnie took a few sharp, raspy breaths, then whimpered weakly. She looked up at Angie, tears pouring from her shiny blue eyes, and asked, “Am I dying?” 

Angie stared back at her, eyes wide. She stroked a piece of wet hair out of Winnie’s face. “You really don’t know, do you?” She said softly. Then, louder, more reassuringly, “No, no, honey. You’re not. It’s completely normal.”

“Can you stand it?” Kaylee said to Alyssa, and Alyssa finally pulled her eyes away from the pitiful scene. “The stupid bitch never knew--”

“Chris!” Angie yelled.

“But Chris is right, Miss Gardener,” Alyssa said, jumping to defend her friend. “I mean, she’s fifteen for crying out loud! We’ve been having classes about this kind of stuff since, what? Sixth grade?”

“I first heard about it in fifth grade,” Natalie put in helpfully.

Alyssa pointed to her and nodded.

Angie looked appalled at all of them. “Sue, what’s gotten into you?”

“Oh, come on,” Alyssa said. “It’s just Carrie!”

Winnie flinched further into Angie. Angie tightened her arms around the girl.

“Shame on you,” Angie spat. She looked down at Winnie, stroking her hair. In an instant, her voice softened. “Come on, sweetheart. Come on. I got you. It’s okay.”

She lifted Winnie off of the ground and helped her out of the locker room. Alyssa and Kaylee lingered around. Alyssa crossed her arms and huffed.

“Can you believe her, going off on me like that?” Alyssa said as she roughly shoved the rest of her belongings into her bag.

“Sue, shame on you! What’s gotten into you?’” Kaylee said with an awful imitation of Angie’s voice. She got a mischievous look in her eyes. “…besides Tommy Ross’ tongue!” 

Alyssa elbowed her sharply in the ribs. “Shut up!” She laughed. Then, settling herself, still upset over Angie’s disapproval, “I mean, who does she think she is, anyway? It wasn’t all _my_ fault! It’s not like I was the only one doing it.”

“Ehh,” Kaylee waved a dismissive hand. “Screw her. Who gives a damn what some lezzie gym teacher thinks, anyway?”

“She’s not a lesbian,” Alyssa said. “At least, I don’t think so. She’s not. Is she?”

“Who cares? Details, details…” Kaylee took out her phone. “Oh my god! Norma’s already posted about it!”

Alyssa huddled against her side to watch a video of Winnie flailing and screaming on the floor. She laughed, but couldn’t ignore the sting of guilt that suddenly stabbed into her heart.

“Oh, god, you know what else?” Kaylee piped up again as they walked out into the hallway. “That MOTHER of hers! You know, always ranting about how everybody’s going straight to hell except her and her precious little Carrie.”

“Do you remember that time in third grade when she got down on her knees in the cafeteria?”

“Prayin’ with that Bible!” Kaylee said.

“And that dress!” Alyssa nodded. “Remember?” She began to recite a sing-song chant. “ _Prayin’ Carrie!_ ”

Kaylee jumped into it with her, “ _Ugly, short, and hairy! All her friends are, uh!_ ” They bumped hips. “ _Imaginary!”_

They howled at the childhood memory.

“And that _light bulb_ !” Kaylee said eagerly. “Did you _love_ it?” She turned her head, and Alyssa realized Winnie was walking by, her head held low. “ _POW!_ ”

Winnie flinched away and hurried forward.

“Her mom should have told her,” Alyssa said, feeling a flash of pity. 

“That mother of hers never told her shit,” Kaylee said.

“ _Someone_ should have told her,” Alyssa corrected herself.

“Well, like mother, like daughter!” Kaylee yelled after Winnie, smirking.

“Shh!” Alyssa tugged on her arm. “She’ll hear you!”

“Oh, doll. You care too much about what people think,” Kaylee said, bumping her. “Oh, I almost forgot! My folks are away. Party at my house tonight!”

Alyssa locked arms with Kaylee and grinned, but couldn’t help the nagging sense of guilt and pity rising up inside of her. She did her best to push it away- it was fine! Carrie [ _Winnie_ ] White didn’t deserve it, anyway.

…Right?

( _not right._ )


	10. And Eve Was Weak

**Carrie “Winnie” White**

People were talking about Winnie again, but that wasn’t new, was it?

( _no. no it wasn’t._

_she was used to being talked about as if she couldn’t hear, as if she couldn’t talk--)_

She lingered outside of the guidance counselor’s office, listening to her coach and English teacher discuss the event in the locker room.

“Isn’t she a little, you know…” Mr. Barry said vaguely.

“What?” Miss Angie stopped her process of pacing around the room and ranting. “Old? For her first?” She didn’t wait for a nod or response, “Yeah. Most girls get theirs when they’re twelve. I got mine when I was ten.”

Mr. Barry blinked up at Miss Angie. “Ten?” He echoed, trying to sound like he knew that that was strange.

“I was wearing these white pants,” Miss Angie explained, laughing dryly. “Oh my god, I was mortified! I--” She noticed the look on Mr. Barry’s face and sniffed, squaring back her shoulders. “The point is--” She grit out. “Up until a half hour ago, Carrie White thought her first period was Homeroom.”

Mr. Barry snorted out a light laugh. “Homeroom. That’s good.”

“It’s not funny,” Miss Angie said coldly, and Mr. Barry shut his mouth instantly. “She thought she was _bleeding to death_.”

Mr. Barry swallowed down his humiliation and nodded briskly. “I’m just--” He fumbled with his words. “I find it hard to believe that a girl her age wouldn’t know--something.”

Miss Angie snorted morbidly. “You think her mother would have told her?”

“It is not our place to interfere with people’s beliefs,” Mr. Barry reminded her gently. Miss Angie scoffed and rolled her eyes, folding her arms firmly over her chest.

“As usual, Chris Hargensen was the ringleader,” Miss Angie started on another furious tangent. 

“No surprise there,” Mr. Barry said.

“But even Sue Snell was doing it.”

That made Mr. Barry double take.

“I’d expect a stunt like this from Chris, but Sue…” 

“ _All_ the girls were doing it,” Miss Angie said, sounding furious. “They cornered her and yelled things at her and threw tampons in her face. What do we do about them?”

“Well, they need to be punished,” Mr. Barry said. “Think you can handle that, Lynn? Read them the riot act.”

Miss Angie looked pleased about that. “Of course,” She said, a small smirk of anticipation for revenge twitching on her lips.

Winnie lingered for a moment, then shuffled into the office, dripping wet and miserable-looking. Snarled tangles of wet hair hair drooped around her pale face like soggy milk snakes. Her eyes were dark and blank, like an ocean during a storm, and tear stains were still evident on her cheeks.

Immediately, Miss Angie and Mr. Barry whirled around to her. 

“Ah, there you are,” Mr. Barry said. “Are you, uhh, feeling any better? Need some Aspirin? Some juice?”

“Juice? Really, Henry?” Miss Angie snapped.

Mr. Barry raised his hands in surrender. He peered closely at Winnie. “We feel that it would be best if you went home for the remainder of the day and took care of yourself. We’re all very sorry about this, Cassie.”

“It’s Carrie,” Miss Angie hissed. She turned to the girl at her side with a frown, her features softening. “Carrie? I’m going to excuse you from Gym for the rest of the week. Just take study hall instead.”

Winnie just nodded silently. Miss Angie and Mr. Barry exchanged nervous looks, then Miss Angie gently lifted Winnie’s chin to make her look at her.

“Carrie, honey,” Miss Angie said, “I am so sorry I slapped you. I should have handled that situation better.”

Winnie just stared up at her with big, sad silver eyes that looked so much like an injured lamb’s.

“You know, getting your period is totally normal,” Miss Angie tried to smooth her panic out. “Usually it just comes a little bit sooner.” She paused, hesitated, then quietly asked, “Is this your first time?”

Miss Angie wasn’t sure who looked more uncomfortable: Winnie or Mr. Barry. Both seemed supremely uneasy with the question, but Mr. Barry was blinking in a dumbstruck sort of way that only men would do over this subject.

Winnie herself was quiet for a long time, but eventually squeaked out, “M-my Mama never t-told me about it...”

“Oh, baby…” Miss Angie cooed pitifully. “Do you know what’s happening to your body?”

Mr. Barry wiped away a bead of sweat from his brow.

“I…I thought I f-felt something m-move…down there…” Winnie said softly.

Mr. Barry’s eyes bulged so far out of their sockets that it was a miracle that they didn’t pop out completely. He mouthed, _“What the fuck…?!”_

“Honey…” Miss Angie said sadly.

“W-well--” Mr. Barry suddenly interjected. Miss Angie gave him a warning glare, and he pulled out a water bottle from his bag, took a sip, and then tried again speaking on the topic. “Maybe you could talk to a therapist! Or a nurse! At the hospital! Or a biologist!”

Miss Angie looked at him as if he were crazy. Mr. Barry rubbed his palms against his pants, clearing his throat. He did his best to make himself look refined and sophisticated, but that was impossible with his lack of knowledge over a completely normal situation and from the way he kept making it even weirder than it needed to be.

“What we mean to say is…” Mr. Barry said. “We’re all very sorry about this, Cassie.”

“It’s Carrie!” Winnie cried, and one of the overhead lights exploded into thousands of burgeoning pieces.

Silence and a strange coldness filled the room. Winnie slipped out without a word, leaving Miss Angie and Mr. Barry to stare at each other and the mess of glass with wide eyes.

* * *

“You know what Norma calls her?”

Winnie tensed in her stride. 

Of course. If her day wasn’t already bad enough.

“ _Scary_ White. I just call her dumb bitch!”

She looked up, and there was Chris [ _Kaylee_ ] Hargensen and Sue [ _Alyssa_ ] Snell.

Kaylee looked as sinful as ever, wearing a blood red crop top and tight black pants. She had been dress coded several times because of the way her stomach was showing beneath her sorry excuse for a shirt, but she never changed, no matter how many teachers told her that her clothes were inappropriate for school. Winnie’s Mama would have made her listen easily, if not with words then with action.

At her side, Alyssa was slightly better. She was in an emerald green sweater with a furry black vest and blue jeans. She, at least, had the decency to cover herself up in public, but Winnie had seen the way she kissed all over Tommy [ _Emma_ ] Ross. It was shameful.

Kaylee smirked, getting up in Winnie’s face. “Scary White! Do you _love it_?”

Students noticed the confrontation and began to creep over, joining in on the teasing. Winnie held still, head to the floor, ignoring it, always ignoring it.

( _always, always_ )

“Scary White!” Roy [ _Bee_ ] Chambers echoed Kaylee’s first catcall.

“Hey, Scary White!” Violet [ _Kay_ ] Huffman called.

“Retard!” Zoie [ _Christy_ ] Baxter cackled, the use of the slur giving her some sort of morbid thrill. 

“Stupid bitch!” Maddisyn [ _Emily_ ] McLaughlin badgered, sneaking by behind Winnie and yelling in her ear, causing her to flinch away in fright.

“Fucking dumbass!” Lakynn [ _Jess_ ] Bell needled, swatting at the lock of bangs that would dangle in front of her left eye.

“Little pig, little pig!” Jewelia [ _Elisha_ ] Robertson teased.

“Goddamn idiot!” Julian [ _OJ_ ] Strong taunted.

“Whiny little baby!” Cedar [ _Alex_ ] Curtis tormented.

“Waste of space!” Jace [ _Foster_ ] Sampson tantalized.

They all stormed around her like a hurricane of ridicule. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to block them out, usually she did such a good job at ignoring the bullying, but today was different. There was something wrong. It all kept leaking into her brain, filling her head with their nasty comments. 

She couldn’t take it.

_“That’s not my name!”_

( **_do you hear me, Mother, Father? are you proud?_ ** _)_

Her tormentors parted from her, not because they were intimidated by her shouted like she was hoping, but because they liked to space out when they messed with her. Everyone got a turn, as if she were some kind of sick carnival game.

_“Doesn’t anybody ever get it right? Carrie!”_ She cried, exhausted. _“When’ll they remember I am Carrie White? Carrie!_

_Is it any harder so say then--”_

_“Goddamn toad!”_

_“And--”_

_“Spastic!”_

_“And--”_

_“Weirdo!”_

_“And--”_

_“Dumb bitch!”_

Their words raked her ears like serrated knives. She shook her head like she was trying to knock them out, but they wouldn’t jar loose, echoing in a never ending cycle of torture.

_“Doesn’t anybody think that I can hear?_

_I hear!_

_‘speically when I’ve got them screaming in my ear,_

_I hear!_

_Every day they mock me and push me around,_

_‘til I drop,”_

Linda shoved her roughly, causing her to stagger forward and drop her messenger bag. When she went to grab for it, Marcus kicked it and set it sprawling, spilling her books and papers across the floor. 

_“If I had a wish, God, I wish they’d stop!_

_When will they…_

_I wish they’d…_

_When will they, when will they, when will they?”_

They were creeping up on her again. She lurched away, wanting to get away.

_“Sometimes their hatred is out of control,_

_God, how they hurt me!”_

So many years wasted to torment. So many years she could have had friends and been treated like a normal person. So many years thinking she was just a useless, scarred waste of skin, as her peers in school had spent six years of her life reminding her.

_“Mama says suffering is good for the soul,_

_But they hurt me!”_

She still heard them all the time, their voices in her head telling her how wretched, hideous, and scary she was. She tried to drown them out by concentrating on school work and prayers, but the smallest thing could bring them crashing back in. Just the thought of the shower incident--how familiar it all felt--brought on a fresh wave of memories of poisoned words and scornful laughter.

_“And if I could,_

_I’d bring them all,_

_Down to their knees!_

_I’d make them sorry forever for teasing_

_Carrie,_

_Carrie,_

_Carrie…”_

Winnie stared outwards, eyes glazed, as her classmates began to recede, disappointed by a lack of reaction. She had learned that they got bored of her after a while, so she usually tried to ignore them. It was all she could do. She knew that if she retaliated in any way, _she_ would be the one to be punished. Teachers never cared, despite all the evidence stacked against her bullies. She had the bruises and scratches and scars and trauma to prove all of it.

Her eyes began to sting; Winnie swiped away the tears beginning to form and rushed down to her fallen messenger bag. She scooped up all the papers, books, journals, and pens that had spilled out and shoved them back inside, sniffling, willing herself not to cry.

_“I will not cry,_

_I am okay,”_

It all started when she was eight. Third grade. She had brought a Bible to school and prayed with it in the cafeteria during lunch. Everyone thought it was hilarious, and she couldn’t live it down for the rest of elementary school.

_“I try so hard to play their way,”_

And then she was eleven and in sixth grade. Finally in middle school. And up until that school year, she was mainly ignored by her peers or picked on simply because of the whole Bible incident. But then gym class and changing in front of other girls became a thing, and they all saw the way her ribs would weirdly press out against her skin and how her stomach was sunken too far in for her skinny hips. That was the day she learned what the word “emaciated” meant. It also kickstarted hell on earth for the next four years of her life.

The rest of sixth grade was spent with her being bombarded by food and the constant question of if she was hungry. She even started to get called anorexic when a few of the kids figured out what that meant and would be asked if she needed someone to jam their fingers down their throat whenever she would go to the bathroom. She also distinctly remembered a boy giving her a tub of rotten meat with maggots in it one day.

_“Why do they find it so hard to say_

_‘Carrie?’”_

Seventh grade rolled around. Her Mama said that the bullying would go away after the break, but when Winnie turned up to the school when she was twelve, she was only met with familiar evil faces and fresh bouts of teasing. The anorexic jokes became more extreme, but those were probably the least awful things she was met with because her peers grew enough balls over the break to start getting physical with her. 

That school year quickly became the year of being tripped, shoved, and slammed against walls. She had even been pushed down one of the staircases when she was going to get a drink of water and broke her arm. She still remembered how horrified and sick the culprits had looked when they heard the awful crunching and cracking sounds of her bones breaking, like they hadn't meant to do that much damage. 

( _sounds familiar…_ ) 

Instead of helping her, they left her in the stairwell, where she cried on the floor for an hour, immobilized by pain, until class ended and she was found by dozens of students. She finished that year with a cast that got slurs written on it when bullies would pin her down and forcefully write whatever they wanted.

_“Why do they always treat me so bad,_

_They all know my name?_

_It’s Carrie!”_

When she turned thirteen, she begged her mother to take her out of school before eighth grade started, but her Mama refused and Winnie had to live through another year of ridicule and harassment. That was the first time she got her head dunked in a toilet and fingers smashed in a door.

_“I don’t know why they all get so mad,”_

She turned fourteen at a summer camp she hadn’t been allowed to go to, but sneaked off to, anyway. The break between eighth grade and ninth grade had been lonely and dreary- Winnie wanted friends so badly that she dared to go against her mother’s wishes and ran off to the camp she had been hearing about to try and be with kids that wouldn’t mock her.

But, like everyone else in her life, they did.

When she cheerily told them that it was her birthday, they called her a witch instead of singing to her. A large group of the cruelest campers, some being seventeen, some being only nine, dragged her out to the nearby river and repeatedly dunked her in the water until she began to drown, all while they chanted _“Drown the witch! Drown the witch! Drown the witch!”_ over and over and over again. It still echoed in her ears to this day.

Her mother punished her severely when she got home and didn’t even care when Winnie cried to her about what the kids did to her, saying that she deserved it.

Winnie became deathly afraid of water after that.

_“It’s always the same!”_

Ninth grade was the worst, in her opinion. High school. On the second day, any of her so-called ‘friends’ abandoned her and scribbled on her homeroom desk statements such as _“Go home”_ , _“Drop dead”_ , and _“Freak”_. All of her peers seemed to spread the news of her weirdness like wildfire to the higher grades, turning people she didn’t even know against her. Older kids and kids her age alike would beat her and threaten her with knives they would sneak to school just so they could snatch whatever snack she bought from the cafeteria and turn anyone she may have befriended against her. Students in her class would beg the teacher to let them be with someone else if they were partnered with her, always making sure to do so within earshot of her. They would laugh at her during presentations and throw things at her and make fun of her when she messed up. They mimicked her stutter and nervous ticks, held her down and dripped hot glue on her skin, put staples in her ears and fingernails, and poised sharp objects too close to her eyeballs just to hear how loud she would squeal. And the entire time, no adults did anything. They all turned a blind eye to her treatment, even when she had the burns and scars and bruises to prove what had been happening to her.

She soon realized that it wasn’t that they didn’t see what was going on.

They just didn’t _care_.

Nobody _ever_ cared.

Not enough to do anything.

( _“so it’s worse than useless…”_ )

Just then, Winnie’s belly ached fiercely, sending her back to the ground when she had attempted to stand up. She wrapped around her stomach and could almost _feel_ the muscles clenching and seizing up with every cramp that ripped through her. She tried to remember what Miss Angie had told her, about something inside of her called a “uterus” and that it was “shedding its lining”, but it still made no sense to her.

_“What’s going on deep in me,_

_All of these feelings suddenly?”_

In just a few minutes after leaving the guidance counsellor’s office, the sharp cramps in her stomach had become violent spasms, and the dull aching in her back turned into an intense, radiating burn. She was both sick with hunger and too nauseous to eat. Her bladder and bowels ached. She was sweating from the pain of it all, but also shivering and weak from anemia. And, to top it all off was the gross, hot feeling of this so-called “uterus” being filled to the absolute brim with blood and pressing uncomfortably up against her lower stomach with so much pressure that she thought she would burst open if the fluids weren’t deposited. The weird strip of cotton that Miss Angie had put in her underwear for her was doing its job at soaking up the blood, but it felt so thick and fat and heavy in her undergarments and rubbed her thighs in a way that made her want to peel her skin off, which was a whole other problem in and of itself. 

Winnie liked to think she’d been a good girl. She always prayed at night and in the morning and whenever she ate, even at school…even if it meant she would be made fun of for it. She always listened to Mama and always ate all her food and always did her chores. So why was she bleeding? Was it because she was showering with other girls? Mama had said she was banned from doing that because it was sinful, but she didn’t want to be left out of anymore girl things, she wanted to try and fit in with her classmates and maybe become one of them if she proved she could bathe like they did, so she might have, maybe, definitely had snuck in some showering items from home and to her gym locker… But again! It was for a good reason!

_“If I am changing, will I still be;_

_Carrie?_

_Or what if I am somebody new?”_

Miss Angie had explained the process of a strange word called ‘menstruation,’ telling her how she and every other girl in the whole entire world would bleed for four-to-seven days at a time every month until she’s in her 50s, which was basically the rest of her life. It sounded awful. How could God curse females with such a horrible bodily function?

The sharp ache in her lower stomach returned like a tug on her small intestines. A new feeling rose in her sore chest, a yearning, an ache. She felt suddenly cold, as if the heater in the school could no longer warm her. This was it, then, the change was here.

Would she still be Winnie after it was all over? When she shed the last of her “uterus lining,” as Miss Angie had said, would she still be herself? Or would she be someone new?

_"Imagine_

_The things I might do!”_

Would being someone new really be all that bad?

_“I might take a chance,_

_I’ve always wondered how,”_

Winnie rose to her feet, a new light in her eyes. The pain was replaced with a fuzzy, tingly feeling as she laced her messenger bag back around her shoulders.

_"Or maybe I’ll dance_

_And try to laugh more than I do now!”_

Winnie held out her arms and acted as though she were dancing with someone, spinning and twisting around the space, giggling as she went. She didn’t even know how to dance, but the partner she imagined herself with didn’t seem to mind.

_“And the world will open its eyes,_

_And for once the whole world will recognize_

_Carrie!”_

She spun away from her invisible partner and stared forward, eyes glistening. She held tightly to the strap of her messenger bag, a smile coming to her face.

_“Then all those people who scream night and day:_

_‘Poor, prayin’ Carrie!’_

_They’d see the new me,_

_And they might even say:_

_‘Look! It’s Carrie!’”_

She knew what it was like to fantasize things that seemed impossible. She had been doing that all her life, praying, _wishing_ for some kind of change to happen. This had to be the one.

_“And finally,_

_I’d hear that word,_

_Sounding so sweet!_

_Thousands of voices forever repeating:_

_‘Carrie!’”_

She could hear them, now. The voices. And, for once, they weren’t full of hate or disgust or ridicule, but adoration and awe, all towards her.

( _“Winnie!”_ )

_“‘Carrie!’”_

( _“Winnie!”_ )

_“‘Carrie!’_

_I am the sound of distant thunder,_

_The color of flame!”_

It was there, somewhere, deep inside of her. That part of her that would make things better. She reached for it. She _longed_ for it.

_“I’m Carrie!_

_I am a song of endless wonder,_

_That no one will claim!”_

( **_someday._ ** _)_

_“But someday_

_Oh my! Someday_

_Someone will know my name!”_

* * *

“Heads up, Ross!”

“Hey, Tom-my!”

“I didn’t know you played football?”

The chorus of voices stopped Winnie dead in her tracks. She froze and looked up to see Tommy [ _Emma_ ] Ross and her friends tossing a football back and forth.

Of course. Why did she think her walk home would be peaceful? She should have known with that day’s track record.

“Yo, Ross,” Noah said as he caught the football. “You psyched about Prom or what?”

“Yeah, right,” Emma said. “You ever seen me in a tux? I look like a freakin’ penguin.”

“Shut up, Tommy!” Kyle suddenly barked, whipping his head up from preparing for another toss. “You’re gonna look great!”

They all stared at him in silence, watching as his face slowly faded to a deep red color. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“What? Girls eat that shit up!” Kyle said.

“Hey, can someone tell me what the deal is with this Prom theme, anyway?” Noah spoke again, casting Kyle one last incredulous look. “Heaven Under The Stars! Ugh, you gotta be kidding me.”

“What dumbass came up with that idea?” Kyle said, having recovered from his embarrassment. “Why not call it a dance and be done with it?”

Marcus shrugged, then looked to Emma. “So, you invited Sue yet?”

“Tonight,” Emma said. “I’ve sort of been waiting for the right moment.”

“Dude, you wait much longer, Prom’s gonna be over,” Kyle said.

“YO, SUCKERS! Beep-beep, coming through!”

Billy [ _Greg_ ] Nolan suddenly came zooming by on a skateboard, narrowly missing Emma. He skidded to a halt in front of the group.

“Jesus, Billy!” Emma said, laughing. “Watch it!”

“So, what are you girls up to?” Greg asked.

They were distracted. Winnie could go now. This was the only way home if she wanted to get back by dark. She took a deep breath and started walking with her head down, hoping to not be seen.

“Well, if it ain’t Prayin’ Carrie!” 

Damn her red hair, making her a literal beacon.

Greg jumped in front of her, blocking her path. She reeled away from him, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Wonder who’s taking her to Prom? Her mother?” 

“Leave her alone, Billy,” Emma said.

“Hey, I’m not doing anything wrong!” Beamed Greg with a smart-alecky ‘who, me?’ expression. It was the sort of look worn by someone who thought he was being terribly cute and clever but had failed to realize that once you pass a certain age, the rascal act didn’t work anymore. “I just meant that nobody else deserves her. I was complimenting her!” He looked down at her. “There’s nothing wrong with complimenting people, is there, little church girl? How about we kiss and make up?” 

He puckered up a pair of wet red lips and made some kind of grotesque smacking noise that only passed for a kissing sound in his group’s hilarious reality.

Winnie didn’t budge. She had her fingers now gripped at the strap of her messenger bag and was standing perfectly still, like a rabbit that had just wandered unwittingly into a den of coyotes and only just realized its mistake. 

“I’m not a little girl,” She forced out, but her voice was quiet and shaky. Her lungs felt constricted with hot iron bands. If she had a panic attack, would they leave her alone? “I’m fifteen.” 

If there had been a ‘State the Obvious’ contest going on, she’d have won with that sentence in a heartbeat. The fact that she had to even clarify that at all was a testament to how very, very wrong this entire situation was.

There was a collective roar as the entire group, Greg included, exploded into laughter. Emma, however, was silent, giving her friends strange looks.

An angry, humiliated flush had started to creep up onto Winnie’s cheeks and her fists began to tremble. Frustrated by her own inability to be more intimidating than a bunch of wild high school delinquents who liked to pick on girls. Of course she would be.

Eventually, the laughter started to die, and Greg lifted a hand to wipe the water away from his eyes, wheezing.

“You’re a FEISTY little thing, aren’t you?” His tone was still jovial, but somewhere deep in that mockery of a friendly voice was a sort of darkness hidden down there, like a fishing hook in a slice of bread. He began to stalk closer to her. “Baby, I bet you’re a real hottie under all _that_!”

Hands grabbed her long skirt and tried to yank it up.

Winnie was unable to bite back a scream of shock as she jerked away, tripping over her own feet and falling to the ground. She held her skirt down with both hands, eyes wide, breathing frantically.

“You’re such an asshole,” Emma growled. Weird. Why did she sound so angry over what was happening? Nobody ever disliked the things that people did to her… 

Winnie could only sit there as the entire scene unfolded, her body as stiff as if it were riddled with rigor mortis. She wanted to run or yell or wave her arms or something, but she couldn’t move anymore, as if she were now glued to the floor. Her mental mask had now slipped irretrievably out of her grasp, leaving the paralyzed panic bare on her face. Her heart was hammering and her hands were clenched so hard that her knuckles had turned pure white, painting the nicks and cuts on them an even brighter red.

It was like watching a horror movie, the sort where you could see exactly what was coming and every inch of you ached to yell, “Don’t open that door!”, but knew that no amount of begging would stop the hapless hero on the screen from opening the hell out of that door and being dragged inside, kicking and screaming and completely surprised. Because no matter how obvious it was to the watcher, it wasn’t to the hero.

Otherwise they wouldn’t _be_ the hero.

Greg pounced on her, and Winnie cracked her head back against the floor in shock. She squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth through the pain, and when she opened them again, Greg was right there, his face, so twisted with gluttony and lust, towering over her own.

“Come on, church girl!” Greg yelled, straddling her much-smaller hips and making her cramps even worse. “Dance with me!” One of his hands caressed her cheek while the other-- “ _I’ll_ make you see God!”

The other grabbed for one of her breasts.

_Flex_

Greg was flung off of her.

Through a mind-buzzing moment of panic, Winnie managed to blink in shock at him.

“What the hell?” Greg grunted, rolling over like a turtle that had fallen on its back. He shook out his unruly mane of hair.

What was that? She reached inside of herself for the same sensation that had flickered through her seconds ago, but found nothing. It was like trying to move a paralyzed limb- she couldn’t feel anything but weakness within her.

“How’s your pussy, princess?” Marcus asked over the laughter that had filled the area.

Greg shot up to his feet instantly, his face inflamed with rage. He charged Marcus, grabbing him by the collar and shaking him.

“What are you laughing at, punk?” He snarled. His head whipped around to Winnie. “The goddamn _BITCH_ TRIPPED ME!!”

Is that what happened? Had she pushed or tripped him? But she hadn’t moved her arms or legs at all when Greg fell…

Winnie jerked out of her speculations when she saw that Greg was advancing on her with a murderous look in his eyes. She flinched away, curling into herself and preparing for the blow. She had to protect her stomach- her back would be the best spot for her to be hit.

But then there was suddenly the squeaking of shoes from behind; when she dared to peek up, Emma was standing in between her and Greg, like an angel clad in a royal blue letterman, a black shirt, and dark green jeans.

“What are you doing?” Greg demanded.

“Back off,” Emma said calmly, but Winnie could swear there was trepidation in her eyes. 

“Why are you taking that freak’s side?” Greg growled.

“There are no sides, Billy,” Emma rolled her eyes. “Just drop it. She’s none of your concern, see? She’s already on the damn ground.”

Greg growled lowly, then glanced at Winnie’s fallen form, sniffed, resettled his leather jacket, then began to walk away with his nose raised haughtily. Marcus, Kyle, and Noah began to follow him, while Emma lingered behind. Winnie stared up at her as if she were Jesus Christ himself.

“Are you alright?” Emma asked. Her voice was soft and surprisingly gentle. 

Winnie continued to stare up at her, dumbfounded. She managed to reply with a tiny, barely-there nod.

“Come on,” Emma extended her hand down to her. 

Winnie instinctively flinched away, then looked at it. After a moment of expecting it to turn into something else, claws or a knife or something even worse, she took it. Emma’s hand was bigger than hers and very warm in her own.

“Don’t pay any attention to those clowns,” Emma said as she pulled her to her feet. “They’re just messing around.” And then she ruffled Winnie’s hair and went after her friends. “Bye!”

Winnie watched her go with wide eyes. She tentatively touched her head, awestruck. And then she raised a hand and softly, so softly, she whispered, “Bye.”

* * *

The house was swathed by tendrils of ivy climbing their way towards the roof that was missing several shingles and splotched with patches of emerald green moss. The weathered wood was a chalk color, paint peeling and flaking off, with black peppering along its breast. The windows were tinted a deep brown and covered up by drapes, many of them cracked. The yard was a sea of weeds and the walkway leading up to the house was lined with deceased trees; their ebony branches bore no leaves. The very age of the cottage was shown in its deterioration.

This was no place for any child to be raised.

Withered brown leaves rustled in the ghostly wind. This part of the street was almost silent, if not for the wailing gust, the crackle of fronds, and the distant shrieks of happy children playing. Black tires of a passing car trampled over the dead blades scattered on the edge of the poorly-kept street, the crunching of their filaments like bones beneath a hammer. A flurry of brown leaves swept across Winnie's feet.

Above, the sky was awash with low churning white clouds. Towering trees with ebony branches reached down far, almost blocking the way. Their naked twigs grabbed like fingers, clawing at Winnie's face as she finally trekked up the driveway. The brittle limbs snapped and fell as kindling onto the ground when brushed away. They, too, cracked beneath footfalls as Winnie made her way up to the stoop, across the cracked sidewalk and through reaching snarls of weeds sprouting from the overgrown yard. The porch creaked beneath her weight, and for a split second, as she always did when mounting it, she feared it may cave in, but the old wood held together firmly despite its age.

A familiar feeling of fear shivered through her. Her Mama was home.

She wanted Mama to hold her.

But she also didn’t want to face Mama.

But at the same time, she had to know if everything Miss Angie told her was true. Surely Mama would know. Mama knew everything and she wouldn’t lie to her! She wasn’t allowed to.

The smell of cinnamon was drifting through the entrance hallway as she stepped inside. Maroon and orange (never red) candles were lit up throughout the downstairs area; Mama always preferred their warm glow over the harsh fluorescence of the overhead lights. Mama’s favorite radio station, WORT Radio, could be heard playing from the kitchen.

 _“Welcome, fellow travelers in the darkness! Welcome, and fear no more!”_ Said the man over the speaker. _“This is the Reverend Mathew Bliss, coming to you across the blessed airwaves of W-O-R-D Radio, bringing you the true Gospel of the Lord across the land!”_

_“Lord, you have found me_

_A wonderin' in the darkness_

_Light my way with your true faith_

_And I'll sing with joy of my new faith!”_

Along with the chorus, a new voice emerged.

Mama.

Her Mama was singing!

_“Jesus, possess me!_

_Sweet savior, be my shepherd,”_

A giddy tingling sensation zipped up through Winnie’s spine. She always loved the sound of Mama’s singing. Her voice was so silken and honey-slicked, like the gentle croon of an angel. Winnie said she should join a gospel, that she would be the best singer in the entire group, but Mama would always wave this off with a dismissive hand and a chuckle.

Winnie ventured further into the house, feeling lighter and lighter with each step. She entered the lounge, where a Black Forest cuckoo clock clucked peacefully on the wall. There were many religious pictures and crucifixes in here, but Winnie’s favorite was the photo of Jesus leading a herd of baby lambs through a beautiful flowered field. It radiated so much innocence, unlike all the other paintings of punishment and hellfire and sin. It was hung up beside the huge wooden cross with reddened edges over the unused fireplace. Winnie did her best to never look at that decoration in particular.

Weaving around the brown felt couch and two moth-eaten velvet throne chairs facing each other, Winnie glided into the kitchen. It was an old kitchen indeed, with an oven that squealed like a dying pig when opened and a sputtering gas stove, but everything worked perfectly fine for the two of them.

Two…

_“Bless each endeavor_

_Till I finally join you forever,”_

There was Mama, singing along to the song playing from an old radio on the counter as she sewed at the dinner table, her back to Winnie. 

She was a slim woman, but had a strong, corded neck and incredibly muscled hands from years of working at the local laundromat. Auburn hair framed her face, which was quite beautiful in a weird, overzealous religious way. Despite being in her late forties, her complexion was more weathered by hardship and discipline rather than age. Piercing dark brown eyes flickered when she finally noticed her daughter standing there and a smile broke out on her pale pink lips.

“Hello, Mama,” Winnie said breathily, unable to bite back her giddy grin. 

“Ah, Carrie,” Dee Dee said. “There’s my sweet girl.” And then she opened her strong arms out wide and Winnie darted into them instantly, nestling into her embrace. Her Mama smelled like honey and laundry detergent. The floral robe and tan nightgown she wore were soft underneath her goosebump-ridden flesh.

_“Lord, I will see choirs_

_Of saints and angels singing_

_Finally free of temptation_

_And the flames of Hell’s devastation,”_

Dee Dee swayed Winnie around as they sang together. Winnie always thought they were the best gospel in the whole world.

_“Then He will take me_

_And wash me in the river_

_I will make celebration_

_In the joy of final_

_The light of final_

_The fire of final Salvation!”_

As the song concluded, Dee Dee kissed the top of Winnie’s head. Winnie’s heart fluttered.

“I love you, Mama,” Winnie said.

“I love _you_ , Carrie,” Dee Dee said. She parted from the embrace and began busying herself with the pile of clothes on the dinner table. “Now, go wash your hands, and set the table for dinner, please. I have a lot of work to finish.”

Winnie nodded and hurried to wash her hands off in the kitchen sink before retrieving the plates and utensils from various cabinets. She took them to the dining room, a dimly-lit room filled with more crosses than anywhere in the entire house. A huge iron one hung above the table, where Jesus’ petrified face of agony could always leer down at her when she was trying to eat. She shifted nervously on her feet.

“Mama?”

“Just as the laundry was about to close,” Dee Dee then started talking, “Eleanor Snell brought in some last-minute alterations. I think the Snell’s are having a graduation party for Sue. She’s in your class, isn’t she?”

“Mama, listen--”

“Anyway, Eleanor said she’d pay double, so I’ll be up all night trying to get it all done,” Dee Dee cleanly cut Winnie off. Winnie couldn’t tell if she was doing it on purpose or not. “Heaven knows we can use the extra money.”

“Mama, _please_ \--” Winnie swallowed thickly. “S-something happened at school today. Something terrible…”

Dee Dee looked up at her. She didn’t seem worried in the way that Miss Angie had. “Terrible things are the Lord’s way of testing us, Winnie.” She said wisely.

“I know, Mama, but the other girls--”

“You aren’t like the other girls,” Dee Dee cut her off.

“But I am, Mama! I am!” Winnie said. “I never thought so, but--”

“You aren’t, Carrie. You aren’t. You’re special.” Mama’s lips twitched slightly. “Special.”

“You aren’t listening to me, Mama…”

“I’ve heard all I wanted to hear, now finish setting the table, please.” Dee Dee said. She stood and glided past Winnie towards the kitchen to check on the tea kettle that was set to boil on the stove. Winnie slowly packed the clothing she had been sewing back into its basket and set it aside so she could finish laying out the plates. She looked over her shoulder at her mother.

( _this feeling of hesitance was so familiar._

 _“Mother, Father, i want you to come watch me perform._ please. _it’s just one night and i’ve already gotten you tickets. you don’t have to spend any money. just please come.”_ )

“Mama, in the showers today…”

Dee Dee whipped around instantly, her eyes suddenly lit up like hot coals. Winnie thought she might have seen a flicker of fear somewhere in there, too.

“What have I told you about showering with the other girls?” Dee Dee said. She was suddenly coming at Winnie like a great big tidal wave, grabbing her by the throat and yanking her around. It felt like skeleton fingers were around Winnie’s trachea.

( _had the audience gasped when that happened? she definitely heard a few gasps._

 **_Mother, Father, will you become protective over me because of this? i’m okay, don’t worry!_ **)

“Ack--” Winnie gawped. She could feel nails press down into her tender flesh like cougar claws. Her mother reminded her a lot of a cougar now that she was thinking about it, though being strangled probably wasn’t the best time to do so. “I-I know, but--”

“What have I told you?” Dee Dee shouted, shaking her.

“It’s a sin! It’s a sin!” Winnie gave in.

“And as such, it is forbidden,” Dee Dee said, releasing her. Winnie tottered backwards on unsteady legs, rubbing her throat to make sure none of her major arteries had been punctured. “I cannot believe you, Carrieta. You were having lustful thoughts.”

“No, Mama,” Winnie’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t!”

“You were having lustful thoughts about _women_ ,” Dee Dee oozed scathingly.

“No! No!” Winnie shook her head frantically. “Everyone has to shower, Mama! Everyone! It’s just the rules!”

Dee Dee scoffed as she stormed back over to the stove, where the tea kettle was screeching over their argument like a baby wanting attention from its parents. Winnie watched her nervously as she took it off the burner and began pouring two a cup.

“Would you like some, Carrie?” Dee Dee asked, her voice now calmed.

“Y-yes, please,” Winnie whispered. She considered just dropping the subject, but she could feel it rising in her throat like bile. “Mama--”

“ _Carrieta,_ ” Dee Dee said warningly.

“I know what you said, but in the shower…”

“Have you not learned your lesson?” Dee Dee looked back at her, speaking lowly.

“I know, but--”

“Do you wish to sin?”

“Mama--”

“DO YOU?”

“I STARTED TO BLEED!!”

Silence.

Stillness.

The cup Dee Dee had been holding slipped from her fingers and shattered against the wooden floor. Translucent silver pieces exploded out in every direction. A few chunks cut Dee Dee’s slipper-clad feet and ankles, and blood slowly began to bud out like blooming roses in May, but Dee Dee did not move. Or flinch. Or even blink. She just stared very intently at Winnie like she was hoping she would burst into flames if she leered hard enough.

And then, her face did something strange. It twitched, like all her expressions were falling off one by one, so it looked like a mask for a moment. Then, the skin rippled and creased and wrinkled, and her soft features were eroded away by furious and sinister ones. A sick white light ignited behind her dark brown eyes, like twin lightning bugs of insanity inside the sockets. Winnie backed up against the dining room table with a whimper.

“Mama, I started to bleed in the showers and the other girls-- they laughed at me and called me names and threw things at me!” She said woefully. “I was so scared, Mama! I thought I was dying!” She tried to run to her mother, to be embraced in her warm, strong arms, but Dee Dee backed away from her when she stepped forward.

Dee Dee’s face twitched again, and this time her head jerked a little with it. The veins in her neck bulged out of the flesh and pulsed monstrously. Her eyes suddenly looked a lot less dark brown and a lot more brown- _red_.

“Mama, why are you looking at me like that?” Winnie asked softly, quaking.

“The Curse of Blood,” Mama said quietly. There was an awful, dry chuckle edging her words. Winnie blinked like an oblivious blood red heifer about to be sacrificed to God.

“Mama, you’re frightening me…”

“Bow you head and pray, woman,” Dee Dee said, and her voice was full of so much hate. She strode straight over the glass, crunching it beneath her shoes, and grabbed the Bible from atop the dinner table. She began to recite one of the pages, “‘And God made Eve from the rib of Adam. And Eve was weak and loosed the raven on the world’--”

“Mama, it wasn’t my fault!” Winnie said.

“The raven was called Sin, and the first Sin was the Sin of Lust,’” Dee Dee continued, ignoring her as if she were in a trance. “‘So God visited Eve with a Curse, and the curse was the Curse of Blood.’” She turned to Winnie, and her words were suddenly washed with potent venom, “ _Say it, woman._ ”

Winnie backed away from her, nervous. Her Mama looked enraged… What had she done wrong?

_“And God made Eve from Adam’s Rib_

_And Eve was weak,”_ Dee Dee droned on. Winnie thought she was in one of her ‘spells’, the way she sometimes did when getting into her prayers, but there was too much fire in her eyes. Her Mama knew what she was doing, what she was saying, and she meant it all with pure repulse.

“Mama, how could I know?” Winnie said, backing away when Dee Dee took a step toward her.

_“And Eve was weak,_

_And Eve was weak,”_

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Winnie asked, trying to get through to her mother, but Dee Dee didn’t listen. 

_“And God made Eve to bear the curse,_

 _The curse of blood,”_

“It’s not a curse, Mama,” Winnie said.

“ _The curse of blood.”_

“Miss Gardener said it’s something all girls go through.”

_“The curse of blood._ ”

“You should have told me!”

Dee Dee was suddenly striding across the room with her right hand held high. Winnie didn’t have any time to react before she was backhanded across the jaw by pointy, spike-like knuckles. She yelped out in pain and shock, tottering sideways and careening right into one of the dining table chairs. Her body unceremoniously crumpled into it, and she and the chair both crashed to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

“You’re a woman now!” Dee Dee bellowed above her. “Pray to heaven for your wicked soul!” Facial features twisted with disgust, she sang, _“The raven came to plague the world,_

_Its name was sin,”_

“It’s not a sin,” Winnie said, staring up at her with shiny eyes. She felt a tickle on her face and realized her nose was bleeding.

( _well_ that _wasn’t supposed to happen._ )

_“Its name was sin,”_

( _Dee Dee was trying to stick to her character, but she could see the worry flashing in her gaze, like she was prepared to call for the show to stop because of a simple nosebleed. it seemed like everyone had been thinking about doing so before the show even began. she wouldn’t let that happen._

 _to keep from ruining the show, non-verbal forms of communication were adopted to get things through to each other. An inquisitive look--_ **_“are you okay?”_ ** _\--answered by a minute nod--_ **_“all good.”_ **)

“Oh, Mama, it’s not a sin!”

 _“Its name was sin,”_ Dee Dee swiped the clothes basket, sewing supplies, plates, and utensils off of the table in rage, sending them clattering loudly across the floor. Winnie flinched. “Begin!”

Her mother was suddenly upon her, grabbing her by the shoulder--

( **_OW! NOT ALL GOOD! NOT ALL GOOD!_ **)

\--and shoving her face into the open Bible put in front of her. She was forced to bow with her head to the floor, buried in a decrepit book that vaguely smelled of decomposing wood and spoke of her scorching.

_“And lust was how the sin began_

_The sin was man,”_

“I don’t understand!” Winnie cried, raising her head up for a moment to get a breath of fresh air.

“Well, understand!” Dee Dee shoved it back in.

“No!” Winnie managed to squirm out of her mother’s grasp and roll away, backing up on her hands and knees.

( _the pain in her shoulder only slightly receded._ )

_“The sin was man,”_

“What have I done?” Winnie felt like she was a disobedient dog looking up at its owner.

Dee Dee’s eyes flashed in rage as she began to stalk towards Winnie, seeming more and more like a cougar as the seconds passed by.

Winnie wondered if, like a cougar, she could scream like a dying woman? 

_“God has seen your sinning,_

_Just beginning_

_Pray for your salvation_

_From Damnation_

_Pray or,_

_He will burn you!”_

Winnie scrambled away from her mother. She dove underneath the table, thinking it would protect her. She pulled her legs close to her chest, hugging her knees, and prayed for this all to end, but then that clawed hand from earlier grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out. She kicked and screamed as her lightweight body slid across the floor.

_“He will burn you!”_

Winnie was released and she twisted over frantically to see Dee Dee over her, eyes alit like fire, face twisted in disgust and rage and insanity. Winnie cowered beneath her stare.

_“The seed conveys the power_

_And it’s come again,”_

“Mama, what is the seed?”

_“It’s come again,”_

“Don't you care that I started to bleed?”

_“It’s come again,_

_Until the seed is crushed_

_The power never ends,”_

Her mother’s words didn’t make sense to Winnie. They never did. She watched as Dee Dee walked to the kitchen, shaking her head. She started pulling something out of one of the cabinets. Winnie thought she heard the faint sound of the coal stove opening and closing.

_“It never ends_

_It never ends,”_

Winnie leapt to her feet and her knees shook beneath her. She could hear her own words wavering as she spoke.

_“Mama, I was so scared_

_And they all stared_

_Then I started crying_

_I thought I was dying!”_

Tears were thick in her voice and thick in her eyes.

_“Mama!”_

Dee Dee whirled to her, brandishing a switch. Winnie reared away, throwing her hands up in a sign of surrender.

_“Please don’t hurt me!”_

_“Have you no sense of shame?”_ Dee Dee snarled. “ _Pray for mercy_

_Get down on your knees!”_

The switch cracked against Winnie’s back and she crumpled to the floor in pain.

_“Please don’t hurt me!”_

_“Satan’s staking his claim_

_‘Cause your soul is a hole of disease,”_

The switch came down again and Winnie grit her teeth through the stinging slashed open across her back.

_“I can see you inside!”_

_“Don’t believe with your eyes!”_

Dee Dee circled around her, eyes flashing. Winnie huddled close to the ground, shaking. Then, with a final swing of her switch, her mother turned and stormed back to the kitchen.

 _“Full of sin, full of pride!”_ Dee Dee yelled as she went.

 _“Those are lies, Mama, lies!”_ Winnie cried desperately.

_“That's how Lucifer fell!”_

_“Mama, how could I know?”_

_“And you're headed for Hell!”_

Dee Dee returned, and she was holding a small crucifix made of wrapped barbed wire. Winnie tensed, confused and scared as to what she would do with it. Her mother grappled her.

_“I won’t let you go!”_

_“Mama, let me go!”_

_“Heaven hates a sinner!”_ Dee Dee bellowed, hiking Winnie’s sleeve up. “ _Hates a sinner!”_

 _“I'm not a sinner!”_ Winnie yelled over her, squirming in her strong grasp.

 _“Save your soul from burning,”_ Dee Dee boomed, and pressed the cross to Winnie’s wrist.

Bright, blistering pain.

 _“Mama, stop it’s burning!”_ Winnie howled.

 _“God, she's burning!”_ Dee Dee did not budge, pressing harder. The hot coal and ashes of the stove did a good job at heating up the metal of the cross. Winnie thought she could smell her flesh melting.

 _“Stop, that’s burning!”_ Winnie screamed in pain.

 _“Pray or,”_ Dee Dee threw the cross to the side and grabbed Winnie by both of her wrists and began dragging her across the ground. _“He will burn you!”_

Winnie instantly knew where they were going.

“No, Mama!” Winnie shrieked, flailing in her grasp.

_“He will burn you!”_

“Stop, Mommy! Please! No!!”

_“He will burn you!”_

Even with the sharp, unbearable pain in her stomach and the burning in her wrist, Winnie fought her, kicking and struggling and screaming bloody murder, but it was futile. 

Dee Dee shoved Winnie into the prayer closet and slammed the door shut, locking it tightly.

“NO!!” Winnie screeched. She threw herself at the door, causing it to rattle heavily on its hinges. “Mama, let me go!!”

Dee Dee didn’t answer her. Winnie heard her footsteps trudge away, then her voice sound from somewhere deeper in the house.

_“And God made Eve from Adam's Rib_

_And Eve was weak,_

_And Eve was weak,_

_And I was weak.”_

Panic started sticking to her lungs like black tar, making it harder and harder to breathe. 

Mama was so angry… 

( _her parents were so angry… what if they never let her out?_ )

The oppressive stench of her own fear and blood and piss from other times in the closet burned her nose.

( _n_ _o one would even hear her screams, her last dying words, her final prayers…_ )

 _“I prayed this day would never come,”_ Dee Dee continued outside the closet. “ _I should have known,_

_I should have known,_

_Now I'm alone.”_

Winnie slumped to her side, shuddering. She looked up and gazed around at the horrors that littered the closet. There were so many paintings of Jesus’s death, all in great, graphic detail. When she was little, they used to give her awful nightmares about evil men nailing her to a cross or Jesus’s bloodied body chasing her through a ruined dreamscape, welding a wicked-looking crucifix made of barbed wires and yelling at her to join him on his cadaverous crucible.

They _still_ gave her nightmares, she hated to admit.

_“I’m so afraid_

_Oh Lord, I’ve seen this power before_

_The flesh is weak and I implore,”_

The dead eyes of Christ bore down on Winnie’s pathetic, shaking frame. Jesus’s face was contorted into the same expression of disgust and pain as Mama’s had been, like even he knew that she was the worst thing to ever grace God’s green earth. 

_“Father, don't forsake her_

_Father, take her!_

_Cleanse and purify her_

_With the fire_

_And the power_

_And the glory_

_Forever,_

_And ever,_

_And ever,_

_Amen!”_

As her Mama continued howling outside the Prayer Closet, she curled into a tight ball on the floor, not wanting to meet Jesus’s scornful gaze anymore, and began to pray through her haze of tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not me forgetting Evening Prayers i--
> 
> pretend it's in there and Winnie and Dee Dee are singing and Dee Dee goes "uwu sowwy for burning you" and Winnie forgives her like a fucking idiot


	11. Mind Over Matter

**Sue “Alyssa” Snell**

“So, you and Chris Hargensen…”

Alyssa looked up at the interrogators through the blinding cone of light, her right eye twitching. A barrage of emotions blistered through her whenever she thought about her ex-best friend- anger, sadness, mourning, betrayal, happiness, guilt, pain, longing. It was a flurry of madness that she hated having to deal with. And hearing that name come out of this man’s mouth didn’t make her feel any better. It didn’t sound right when the detective said it, like Kaylee had just been some character in a movie that was killed off too soon for a cheap sad moment. She was a real person, whether Alyssa wanted to remember that or not.

“Friends until the end?” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Alyssa said.

“And why is that?” The male voice asked.

“We were best friends,” Alyssa answered. “Our mothers had grown up together and were still incredibly close, so I guess everybody just assumed we were going to be friends forever.” She shrugged. “But we had our differences.”

“Differences about Carrie White?” 

“Differences about a lot of things,” Alyssa clarified. “I played with Barbie. She played with horses. She’s a back to front. I’m a front to back.”

The interrogation room melted away, blank grey walls unfolding into brightness and bustling. There were suddenly people all around her, and the smell of alcohol and weed bombarded her nose.

“Suze! Hey, Suze!” 

Kaylee came out of nowhere, flinging her arms around Alyssa and causing her to jump. They staggered, nearly falling right over, but managed to stay upright in the crowd of students moving around the house. Alyssa laughed.

“Hello to you, too,” Alyssa said. “What’s up?”

“It turns out we are going to college together after all!” Kaylee declared, smiling widely. “I just got the text!”

Alyssa felt a surge of happiness go through her, but still couldn’t help but tilt her head. “Wait-- I thought Brown turned you down?”

Just saying the school’s name sent flutters of joy and excitement and awe through her. She still couldn’t believe that SHE, Susan [ _Alyssa_ ] Snell, got accepted into one of THE best schools in the country. Maybe even the entire world!! She couldn’t wait until she got to explore the campus and fulfill her dreams, and although she had hoped that her dear best friend would be a part of that, she didn’t actually think it would have happened.

But here Kaylee was, shrugging nonchalantly with a radiant look in her dark brown eyes.

“Yeah, well,” She waved a dismissive hand, “Daddy pulled a few strings and now I’m in.” 

Alyssa couldn’t help but chuckle knowingly when her Basically-Godfather was brought up. She could only pray for the poor soul at the Brown administration board that must have met the other end of his needle-sharp words.

“We get to be roomies together!” Kaylee said. “Isn’t that great or what?”

“It’s AMAZING!” Alyssa declared, hugging Kaylee. “I can’t wait!”

The sound of a shout broke their embrace and the two of them, along with a few other students in the room, turned to look at the young man entering.

“Party’s here, bitches!” Greg yelled. 

“BILLY!!” A chorus of cheers erupted throughout the room.

“Hey, Billy!” Kaylee cried gleefully. She launched herself at Greg and the two immediately melted into a heated kiss. Alyssa sputtered a laugh.

“Classic Chris,” Hayden said, coming up beside Alyssa with Linda and Natalie. “Always can’t wait to jam her tongue down her lady’s throat.” She’s elbowed in the ribs by both Alyssa and Natale for that, making her snicker. “What? It’s true!”

“Come on,” Linda said, and they all crossed over to the couple. “Alright, children! That’s enough PDA!”

Kaylee parted from her boyfriend to stick her tongue out at Linda. Greg chuckled and turned his gaze to the others.

“Hello, kids,” He said languidly. 

“Hey, Billy,” Alyssa smiled at him. The other three greeted him as well. “How are you?”

“Bitchin’ good,” Greg rumbled, his lips twitching upwards. “I’m starved. What do ya got to eat?”

Alex produced a bag of chips from their shirt--shirt. not jacket--and Greg swooped over to grab it. He bumped their fist, then began to munch contently on the snacks.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Kaylee suddenly said. She perched on the edge of the table and spread her hands out in front of her like she was about to tell a grand fairytale. “Can you guys believe the stunt in the shower earlier?”

Like that, Alyssa’s good mood dropped away and icy guilt slammed into her once again. It made her feel so stupid, as all her friends burst into giggles around her, enjoying the funny memory while she just felt sickened by them. Why couldn’t she be more like them?

“Oh my god!” Linda cackled.

“What?” Billy looked at all of them in confusion. “What happened?”

“Oh, Carrie White happened,” Kaylee told him. “Sixteen-fucking-years-old and that stupid retard just stood there having her very first period.”

Alyssa winced at the use of the slur. Why did it suddenly hurt to hear? She hadn’t cared when Linda said it earlier in the gym. Was she just now realizing that it was wrong to say?

“I think she’s fifteen, actually,” She said.

“Who cares?” Kaylee said. “Doesn’t change anything! I knew when I was nine!”

“Wait--” Greg said, and then he exclaimed, “Gross! In the shower?”

Linda suddenly jumped up and began running around the room like a chicken with its head off, screeching. “I’m _dying_ ! I’m _dying_!”

Laughter roared throughout the house as Linda fell to her knees, unable to contain her own hysterics enough to remain standing. Alyssa felt guilt twist in the pit of her stomach.

“Blood was just dripping down her legs, like--” Kaylee brushed a lock of hair into one of her eyes to mimic Winnie’s bangs. “‘Yo, mom, I’m on the rag!’”

“It got EVERYWHERE!” Hayden joined in excitedly.

“And she sat in it!” Natalie added.

“All while squealing like a fucking stuck pig!” Kaylee chortled. “WEE WEE WEE WEE!!!”

“Chris, enough!!” Alyssa shouted over all the laughter. “Stop it! It’s not funny!”

Kaylee looked at her and then said, “Hey, you guys! Stop! Stop! Sue is right. It’s not funny.”

All the giggling died away instantly. Alyssa breathed out a sigh of relief--

“It’s fucking hilarious!”

\--that was quickly replaced with a sharp intake of breath.

Kaylee slung an arm around her shoulders. “Aww, sweetie!” She nuzzled her cheek with her nose. “There’s a runt in every litter! A nobody. And our nobody,” She chuckled darkly, “is Carrie.

_Guess what, ever since the world began_

_Same plot!_

_Everyone's been dumping on their fellow man_

_Pounding people they feel better than.”_

Alyssa wormed away from Kaylee’s arm, but Kaylee went after her, squishing her cheeks as if she were a cute puppy in an adoption fair.

 _“I hope you're taking notes cause!”_ She bopped her on the nose, making Alyssa crunch her whole face up, “ _You feel everyone deserves a shot!_

_Get real_

_Some of us have got it, girl, and some got squat_

_That's the truth, oh, honey, like it or not_

_I hate to break it to you!”_

Alyssa stepped back, frowning at her friend. She tried to see it Kaylee’s way, she really did, but every time she did, Carrie [ _Winnie_ ] White’s naked body covered in blood would resurface, reminding her of what she had done.

_“My daddy taught me you get no where being nice_

_So now I'm sharing his advice:_

_The world according to Chris_

_Is_

_Better to strike then get struck,”_

Kayden swept Noah off his feet, causing a chorus of giggles to erupt from all the immature teenagers at the party.

_“Better to screw then get screwed,”_

Linda wrapped one leg around Natalie and ground her hips into her own.

_“You'd probably think it's bizarre_

_But that's the way things are!”_

“But that doesn't mean it has to be that way!” Alyssa said. “What does it cost to be kind?”

“‘What does it cost to be kind?’” Kaylee mocked her voice. “ _Eww._ What have you done with my best friend?” She looked disgusted by her morals. She turned to her boyfriend. “Billy, you’ve been in high school for, what? Seven years?”

Greg put up six fingers.

“So, tell me, am I right, or am I right?”

“Trust me,” Greg jumped up, tossing the bag of chips to OJ. _“I swear_

_There’s a dick in every class_

_Not fair!_

_Each and every time I fail those losers pass_

_Hey, everyone of them can kiss my ass!”_

_“You wonder why I love him!”_ Kaylee sang to Alyssa.

_“One year, there was this good looking guy_

 _So queer,”_ Greg subtly pointed to Kyle, “ _And on top of that he had a wandering eye_

_One day he looks at me_

_And--”_ He feigned a punch at Kyle. _“Huh! Bye-bye!”_

 _“I bet he got the message!”_ Kaylee said.

She and Greg came together to sing, circling around Alyssa like a pair of hungry sharks. Alyssa crossed her arms over her chest, watching them with the expression of a disappointed parent.

_“We’re here to tell you how this whole damn freak show works!”_

_“Oh, yeah yeah yeah!”_ Great. Now the other kids were getting into it, too. Alyssa was so happy to know she was the only one in this damn party that had a heart.

 _“If you don’t listen, then you’re jerks!”_ Kaylee and Greg stated.

Alyssa rolled her eyes and tried to walk away, but she was stopped by all the others coming together to dance and sing.

_“The world according to Chris_

_Is_

_Better to punch than get punched_

_Better to burn than get burned_

_Learn that and you're gonna go far_

_Cause that’s the way things are!”_

The room became a mass of writhing limbs as all the high school toddlers in various stages of drunk and high loudly sang about how sometimes it was okay to bully people. Alyssa’s disappointment only increased tenfold as she looked around: Christy and Kay were standing on the table, practically howling along to the song; Elisha was waggling a bottle of champagne in the air, which she then tried to sip from while singing and ended up choking on it; Jess fell at one point and didn’t get back up; Alex was on Emily’s shoulders; OJ, at least, was drinking water instead of hard liquor; Foster was sitting on a chair, which was then flipped by Bee, who wanted to dance on it- it felt like she was babysitting a bunch of drunk preschoolers.

 _“Ha-na na na na na na na na!”_ Kaylee began to grind on Greg, which caused a swell of coos and wolf whistles from the others. “ _Ha-na na na na na na na!”_

 _“Ha-na na na na na na na na!”_ They all mimicked her. “ _Ha-na na na na na na na!”_

Alyssa shook her head. She found Emma dancing in the crowd and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to the side. Emma stumbled along with her, the beer in her red solo cup sloshing out onto the floor.

“Do you believe her?” Alyssa said incredulously.

“C’mon, she’s just being Chris,” Emma said.

“You weren’t there,” Alyssa said. “It was awful. We were hurting Carrie!”

“Ah, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

Alyssa shook her head. _“Tommy, you don’t understand_

_What was just a joke got out of hand_

_We kept on screamin’ till she hit the floor,”_

Emma, wanting to make her feel better, said, “C’mon, everybody was doing it!”

 _“Hey, I was in there, too,”_ Alyssa sang. _“What came over me was something new…_

_I did things I’d never done before.”_

She stepped away from Emma, a feeling of repulse blooming inside of her. She had always been the good girl, as Kaylee constantly liked to tease her about. She had never done anything like this before and it revolted her.

_“And now I wish there’s something_

_I could do or say_

_I've never ever felt this way…”_

Emma tilted her head at her, then began to stroll over, “ _Look, Sue_

_Don't be so hard on yourself_

_You can tell me to keep my mouth shut_

_But, wanna know what I’d advise?”_

Alyssa looked at her. “What?”

“Apologize.”

Alyssa blinked at her. “Apologize. Oh, Tommy! That’s genius!” She kissed Emma on the cheek, and Emma grinned brightly.

 _“Ew, Sue,”_ Kaylee had spotted them. _“I can tell you’re feeling sad.”_

 _“Boo-hoo!”_ Everyone else yelled with her, loud enough to make Alyssa jump. _“So, we clobbered Carrie and that’s too damn bad!”_

“ _This is why you've gotta love my dad!”_ Kaylee said.

 _“He’s got the right idea!”_ The others agreed.

_“My daddy taught me who’s on top and who’s below!”_

_“Who’s below!”_ The others echoed.

_“And now it’s time I let you know_

_The world according to Chris…”_

Alyssa shook her head in disgust. “You’re joking, right? You can’t possibly mean all this?”

“Why are you being such a buzz-kill?” Kaylee asked.

“Chris, grow the hell up!” Alyssa yelled, then stormed past her, Emma in tow. Even as they began to leave the house, the singing seemed to follow Alyssa, worming right into her ears.

 _“Ha-na na na na na na na!”_ The other kids chanted. “ _Ha-na na na na na na na na!”_

 _“Let’s start this party, people!”_ Greg shouted over the blasting music. “ _The world according to Chris,_

_The world according to Chris,_

_The world according to Chris,_

_The world according to Chris!”_

And then, there was the sound of her best friend’s voice, soft and almost vulnerable:

_“The world according to Chris is_

_Better to whip than get whipped_

_Even if somebody bleeds_

_Please_

_Nobody dies from a scar_

_And that's the way things_

_Are…”_

Alyssa tried not to give in to it.

* * *

“Can you imagine what it’s like? Being called names every single day of your life?”

Moonlight cast silver streams on Emma’s smooth, glowing skin, making her look like a goddess of the night. Her blue letterman jacket was warm around Alyssa’s shoulder, the scent on its fabric so familiar and comforting. Everything felt good and okay and wonderful again when Emma was with her, holding her, talking to her, loving her. She thought that nothing could possibly bring her down when her girlfriend was there by her side.

And yet, she still couldn’t get the image of Carrie [ _Winnie_ ] White’s naked body covered in blood on the floor out of her head.

Alyssa sighed heavily, kicking a rock. It bounced along the street they were walking down. She wanted to get as far away as her friend’s house as possible.

But could Kaylee even be considered her friend anymore? After what she had done and said?

“You’re right,” Emma agreed. “Words can hurt.”

She sounded slightly detached, slightly awkward with the conversation, unsure on what to say, but Alyssa appreciated that she was trying nonetheless.

“And nobody cares!” Alyssa went on passionately. “Chris, god…” She shook her head, kicking the rock harder. “I thought I knew her.”

“She was just talking trash,” Emma said. “This whole thing-- it’s gonna blow over.”

“I don’t think so,” Alyssa said. “I mean, what is going on with everybody? Am I the only one who feels this way?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Emma took her hands, squeezing them comfortingly. “Listen, what if instead of going to all those parties after Prom, you and me drive out to the beach and watch the sun come up. Just the two of us.”

“After…” Alyssa’s eyes widened. “Wait, are you--?”

In one fluid motion, Emma has pulled out two tickets from her pocket. She did an announcer-like voice as she said, “Sue Snell, will you go to Prom with me?”

Alyssa couldn’t help the sudden rush of giddiness that ran through her. “I would love to go to Prom with you!”

Emma grinned. “Then it’s a date!”

Alyssa looked at her, into her beautiful hazel eyes. Emma’s eyes had flecks of green and gold in them, as if someone had mixed emeralds and citrines together. They glistened in the moonlight.

“How do you do that?”

Emma tilted her head like a confused puppy. “Do what?”

“Make everything feel good again?”

Emma puffed out her chest. “Don’t you know? It’s my special power. I’m a superhero.”

Alyssa laughed, nudging her. “Can you use those powers to fix what I did?”

Emma looked at her, and, for a brief moment, Alyssa felt a cold slicing of fear slash through her, surely thinking Emma was about to revoke her Promposal and break up with her, but then Emma’s grave expression shifted into a thoughtful smile. 

Her girlfriend looked up at the dark sky and mused, “I kicked a kid in the ribs one time.”

Alyssa blinked at her. 

“I did!” Emma insisted, then shook her head and chuckled at the memory. “Reed Mulligan. Big--and I mean BIG--white kid who’d probably grow up to be a robber or something. Anyway, he beat the shit out of me once in sixth grade. And then, in seventh, he picked on the wrong kid and got his ass handed to him. Everyone ran when he dropped to the ground, but first I gave him a good kick in the ribs. Felt terrible about it afterward.” She peered at Alyssa closely. “Are you really gonna apologize to her?”

“I really want to,” Alyssa said. “But, at the same time, I feel like it’ll be awkward, you know? What good will saying sorry do at this point?” She looked at Emma. “Did you apologize to Reed Mulligan?”

“Hell no!” Emma said. “But there’s a big difference, Suzie.”

“There is?”

“This isn’t middle school anymore, Sue,” Emma said. A flurry of bright green leaves swirled down from the tree above them and over their shoulders. “I mean-- what did Carrie White ever do to you?”

* * *

The sun was out again, bleeding its afternoon light through the windows and all across the room. 

Mr. [ _Barry_ ] Stephens’s fourth period English class was as hectic as usual. All Alyssa’s friends, including her beautiful Emma, were already inside when she got there, along with a few others. Natalie was sharpening several pencils at the expensive electric pencil sharpener by the door, while Hayden looked through the Q-T selection of books at the bookshelves, and Kaylee, Linda, and Emma were sitting at the table they all had claimed at the beginning of the year. Greg, Noah, Kyle, and Marcus were all conversing on their own.

“Suze!!” Kaylee cried gleefully, throwing her arms in the air.

Alyssa, despite what had happened the day before, smiled as she walked over, sitting beside Emma. The two shared a quick kiss.

“Hey, gang,” Alyssa said. “What’s the tea?”

“Prom,” Linda stated. “You guys picked out your dresses yet?”

Emma snorted. “Me? A dress?”

“I didn’t mean YOU,” Linda said, leaning over to poke Emma.

“Well, still!” Emma said. “I’m going in a suit! A vintage one!”

“Ooooo!” The chorus of intrigued coos whisked around the table.

“How fancy!” Kaylee said.

“You are a lucky lady!” Linda said to Alyssa.

Alyssa grinned brightly and leaned her head against her girlfriend's shoulder. She sighed dreamily. “I know…”

“I have mine picked out,” Hayden said, walking over and sitting down with _The Great Gatsby_ in her hands. “It’s orange.”

“Oooo, nice pick!” Alyssa commented. “Orange looks good on you!”

“Why thank you!”

“Okay, okay, question,” Linda butt in as Natalie sat back down. “Do any of you know about waxing or shaving, you know--” She leaned in, “--down there? Like, for sex preparation?”

“How naughty,” Kaylee teased, making Linda stick her tongue out at her.

“Well,” Alyssa said expertly, “there are a few things you can do.” At her side, Emma shook her head and laughed. “There’s the rainforest. That’s where you don’t do anything at all. Hitler’s mustache. The landing strip. The Brazil.”

“The Brazil?” Linda laughed. “What does Brazil have to do with getting--your area waxed? Is it, like, the shape of the country?”

“It’s because the thongs in Brazil are so small you have to wax EVERYTHING to wear one,” Hayden said.

“Ohhh,” Linda nodded. “Where is Brazil, anyway?”

Laughter and snickers and whispers suddenly bubbled loudly from the hallway, seeping in through the open door. A moment later, Winnie entered wearing a baby blue button-down shirt, long black skirt, and oversized green cardigan, which she never seemed to be without. She dragged her feet as she walked, not looking up, clutching her binders and folders close to her chest. 

Seeing her sent a sharp pang of guilt lancing through Alyssa.

The bell rang a moment later and everyone who wasn’t already sitting down bustled over to their specific table. Writing utensils and notebooks filled to the brim with stories and projects are brought out as Mr. [ _Barry_ ] Stephens entered from the hall.

“Okay, okay. Settle down now, people. Settle down.” Barry said. “Now that many of you have been accepted into college, I know you think that you can coast through the rest of the term, but you are sorely mistaken. The abysmally low quality of your assignments this week was only exceeded by Mr. Nolan--”

Greg jumped to his feet and bowed proudly. “Thank you! Thank you very much!”

“--who couldn’t even be bothered to turn one in.” Barry finished. He turned his stern gaze on Greg, who sunk back down to his chair. “I don’t suppose you’d care to offer an explanation.”

Greg shrugged. “I got nothin’.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Barry said dryly. “And for the record, Mr. Nolan, it’s ‘I haven’t got anything. ’”

“You ain’t got nothin’, neither?!” Greg cried.

While people laughed, Barry went on, “There is, however, one ray of light. One composition that touched me with the authenticity of its emotion. I’d like that person to recite their work for the rest of you.” 

Alyssa began to stand up.

“Tommy Ross!”

She quickly sat back down.

“Yay, Tammy-Boy! Way to go!” Nick cheered loudly.

Barry whipped around to him. “One more word out of you, Mr. Nolan, and you can repeat this class for the third time, which, God knows, is one more time than either of us can survive.” He looked back at Emma. “Tommy--”

Emma shifted, looking modest. “Do I have to?”

“Yep,” Barry pushed a paper into her hands. “Stand, please, and read your poem.”

“GO TOMMY!!” Her friends cheered, and she rolled her eyes in a good natured way.

“Shut up,” She said. She looked down at the paper. “‘Dreamer In Disguise’ by Tommy Ross.” 

“Oh my god,” Greg said.

Emma glowered at him, then began to read smoothly: “An eagle's just another bird…”

“Well, I could have told you that shit,” Marcus said, and the class laughed. Even Emma snickered.

“Until he can spread his wings…”

Noah suddenly leapt onto his chair, flapping his arms and letting out a bird-like screech. The class all giggled, except Winnie, who looked startled, and Emma, who looked used to these kinds of antics.

“Guys!” Barry barked. “Quiet!”

The class settled. Barry looked at Noah.

“Freddy--that was a pretty good bird, but hush up.” He said.

Noah bowed and then plopped back into his seat. Barry turned to Emma, nodding at her to go on.

“A river is just a sheet of ice

'til winter turns to spring…”

Emma’s voice then shifted, taking on a much more hypnotic tone as she began to sing.

_“And though the clouds may block the sun_

_Don't mean that it's left the sky._

_Just when you think you’ve seen it all_

_There’s more that meets the eye,”_

In an instant, Alyssa got lost in her girlfriend’s singing. It was like listening to an angel choir, the words rippling with confidence and warmth. She could get lost in the melody.

_“Like things I dream and things I feel_

_There’s more to me than I reveal._

_And ‘cause I shine in quiet ways_

_I’m someone you don't recognize._

_I’m a diamond in the rough_

_A dreamer in disguise,”_

Out of the corner of her eye, Alyssa noticed that a few kids had taken out their phones and were now slowly waving them in the air with the flashlight on. She tried not to laugh.

_“An eagle’s just another bird_

_Until he can spread his wings…”_

Applause filled the classroom. A few girls swooned. Emma smirked proudly, bowing her head.

“Thank you, Tommy! Very good!” Barry said. “Class,” He turned to the others. “Any comments?”

Nobody said anything.

“Well, don’t all raise your hands at once,” Barry said.

Still nothing. Everyone was trying to avoid making eye contact.

“Come on, anyone. Anyone at all?”

“Beautiful.”

The marveled comment came from the back of the room, causing everyone to twist around in sync to look at the source of the voice. Winnie had a thoughtful look in her shimmering eyes. A small smile was tugged at the corners of her pale lips.

“Carrie White?” Barry sounded surprised, but pleased nonetheless. “ _Excellent_! Speak up, Carrie, and share your thoughts with the class.”

Like that, the light in Winnie’s eyes was gone. She fidgeted, suddenly looking very nervous.

“I-it was beautiful,” Winnie said. “Just beautiful.”

“‘Beautiful?’” Greg echoed. “Like, ‘oh beautiful, for amber waves of _gay_ ’?” He snorted. “Nice one, Period Girl.”

Winnie flinched and looked away as the class laughed.

“Shut up, Billy,” Emma snarled lowly.

“Go on, Carrie,” Barry said to his shy student. “How did the poem speak to you?”

Winnie looked back up, fidgeting, and then stuttered out, “I-I just think it says that just because something--or somebody-- _seems_ one way…it doesn’t mean it _is_ that way.”

Barry beamed. Kaylee gave Alyssa a “what is wrong with this girl?” sort of look. Emma looked vaguely rapt. She smiled at Winnie, and Winnie blushed madly.

“Very good observation, Winnie!” Barry said.

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. “I think you have the poem more thought out that I do, and I’m the one who wrote it!”

Winnie ducked her head with a shy smile. “Thanks,” She whispered.

Kaylee raised her hand.

“Yes, Chris?” Barry looked at her.

“ _I_ think I’m gonna hurl.”

The bell saved Kaylee from a scolding. Kids stood up and began gathering their things.

“Quiz next time, class,” Barry called after them. “If I were you, I’d brush up on your _Moby Dick_ \--”

There was a chorus of childish laughter.

“The book, not the movie! Now, get out of here.”

Emma had to run off quickly to get to her next class that was all the way on the other side of the school, and Natalie and Linda left in a hurry, too. Alyssa was about to head out with Hayden to the next class they shared together when she noticed Winnie still gathering her things.

“C’mon, Sue,” Hayden said. “We’ve got a Prom Committee meeting!”

“Start without me,” Alyssa said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Hayden shrugged and nodded. “Okay!”

Alyssa walked over to Winnie, catching the attention of Kaylee, who was still in the class and now watching them with interest.

“Hey, Carrie,” Alyssa said.

Winnie jumped and looked at Alyssa, then over her shoulder, as if thinking she were talking to someone else. She blinked up at her with big grey eyes, and Alyssa could see so much painful anxiety in them.

“Earlier--that was nice,” Alyssa said. “That was really nice, what you said about Tommy’s poem. I thought it was beautiful, too.”

Winnie continued to stare at her, frozen like a deer in headlights.

“Look, um, about yesterday-- you know, what happened. I don’t know, things just sort of got out of hand, and I just wanted you to know--”

“Haven’t you had enough?!”

This time, it was Alyssa’s turn to flinch, and she stepped back as if she had just been shot. She looked down at Winnie and was shocked to see pure rage blazing in her eyes, which flickered like lit embers. Her teeth were bared, mouth pulled back in a snarl, and her fingers were clenched into shaking fists.

“Do you think you can just go on tricking me forever?!” Winnie cried.

( _was that acting or was that real? did she still not trust Alyssa? how personal was this? how badly had she wanted to scream at Alyssa?_ )

“Oh no, Carrie, no--” 

Alyssa reached for her, but the girl clawed her hand away. Winnie ducked under her arm and ran out of the classroom, leaving Alyssa behind in shock.

“My, my,” Kaylee said, sauntering over with a chuckle. “Little mousey’s got a temper!”

Guilt roared through Alyssa and, this time, she knew it would be staying for good.

“Suze?” Kaylee poked her. When Alyssa didn’t react, she shook her head and walked out.

Alyssa tottered forward on unsteady legs, feeling like her whole body had been carved out of wood. Her limbs were stiff and numb. Her heart felt like it was seized with burning claws.

Those _eyes…_

_“For years…_

_You look…_

_You look at someone passing by,”_

Even her own voice sounded out-of-body, as if it were being scraped out of her throat with a rake. She swallowed thickly, seeing all her memories of Carrie [ _Winnie_ ] White in a new light.

_“And then one day you see her._

_One day you finally see her!”_

It was strange, she thought, that all it took to change her morals was an event in a locker room. She no longer thought about wanting to tear down the poor White girl just for kicks and giggles. Guilt was left in the absence of the devilish mischief.

_“My God, she shook,_

_And then she looked me in the eye!_

_I’d never seen her angry!_

_I hate I made her angry.”_

( _she stammered and stumbled, she ducked her head, talked to your shoes rather than to your face. she misunderstood, got the confused-timid look as if everything was an attempt to trick her or trap her, so pathetic that it made you want to pinch her, poke her, shove her, do anything at all in fact, anything if it made her **angry** , anything to stop her from looking so weak… _)

_“She…_

_She’s always been there._

_I…_

_I never knew,”_

( _but she was weak._ )

_“I felt as though_

_This girl revealed herself to me_

_And now I know,_

_That once you see_

_You can’t unsee…”_

And like the changing of the sun, none of this meant anything at all.

( _“i just wished it was ‘cause you liked me and not because you feel sorry for me”_ )

* * *

Alyssa quickly realized she had a lot less stamina than she thought she did. 

She had always been a perfect, well-behaved girl, always slipping out of punishment during the few times she wasn’t, so there wasn’t ever a need to have tough endurance for running because she never thought she would piss off a gym coach of all people.

But here she was, running Suicides in the field after school, fighting the urge to dry heave every few seconds.

The sun seemed to be unnaturally, blisteringly hot that afternoon, like it, too, was punishing her and her classmates for what they had done the day before. Alyssa didn’t think she’d ever been so hot before. Her skin felt like it was baking, her hair was tassels of golden fire, and her back was a plateau of roaring flames. Gleaming yellow sunlight made her eyes prickly and sore, and if she squinted through the haze of exhaustion, she swore she thought she could see a big black buzzard circling overhead that seemed to be just waiting for one of them to drop dead.

“Come on, you hotshots!” Angie yelled from the sidelines, looking absolutely delightful with the punishment. She clapped her hands together loudly. “I want to see you _sweat_!”

This had to be what Hell was like. 

“Norma, get those knees up!” Angie shouted.

“I don’t like running!” Linda wheedled in response. 

“I don’t like you much, either!” Angie replied. “Frieda!” She rounded on the next student she caught slacking. “Question.”

Hayden raised her head, squinting through a rain of sweat dripping into her eyes. She replied with a loud, bovine-like, “WHA?”

“Did you ride the struggle bus to school this morning?” Angie asked. “Because you are just one hot mess express over there!”

Hayden swallowed thickly and turned her attention back to running.

“Helen, hi,” Angie smiled at the girl, who slowed down to look at her. “Do you smell that?”

Natalie blinked her eyes in confusion.

“It’s the smell of FAILURE!” Angie yelled.

Natalie whimpered loudly, and then whimpered even louder than that when she slipped and fell. Alyssa ran by and scooped her back up to her feet, dragging her along with her.

After a few more painful laps across the field, Angie’s trademarked whistle finally pierced the air. A collective sigh of relief swept through the class as girls skidded to a halt and instantly doubled over or completely collapsed to the floor in moaning, groaning heaps of soreness. A few scrambled for their water bottles and began drinking like it was the end of the world. Angie walked over to them, amusement painted brightly on her face. The black duffel bag she was carrying bounced against her hip.

“Don’t drink too fast,” Their coach said to the girls guzzling down water, “or you may throw up.”

“My legs are gonna fall off,” Natalie said in a woebegone voice. She was flopped over on her back, spilling her hair all across the ground.

“Now you know how it feels to be Carrie White, don’t you?” Angie said, looking down her nose at the girl.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her have to run before,” Linda pointed out grumpily. “Even though she’s the worst at literally everything we do in class…”

Angie glowered down at Linda.

“Stand up, all of you. Eyes front.”

They obeyed, staggering up.

Angie began marching up and down the cluster of girls. They all watched her tensely, waiting for her to exact an even harsher punishment than Suicides.

Resentment and disgust twisted her features.

“Well, aren’t you all just the bunch to send off to graduation and out into the world?” Angie said. “Oh, my, yes. And Prom’s next Saturday! Sue, you’ll be going with Tommy Ross, I imagine. Norma, Freddy Holt.” She turned to Kaylee, one eyebrow raised. “What about you, Chris? I imagine you can take your pick. Who’s the lucky guy or girl?”

“Billy Nolan,” Kaylee said. “You don’t know him, he doesn’t--”

“Who?”

Kaylee ground her teeth when she was interrupted.

“I’m sorry, Chris, I can’t hear you.” 

“ _Billy Nolan_.”

“Well, isn’t he the lucky one?” Angie said. “Are you going to get him a boutonniere? Or are you just going to pin a bloody tampon to his tux?”

Kaylee’s face went red and she growled like a wild animal. Angie was anything but intimidated, easily towering over her and beating her in terms of fierceness and muscle. 

“Hey, I have an idea!” Angie spoke up again. “Why don’t we skip the rest of the punishment for today and make boutonnieres and corsages for your prom dates instead!”

The girls exchanged confused looks, finding this awfully suspicious.

“Yeah? Sounds fun, right?” Angie said. “We can make them out of these!”

As fast as lightning, she ripped open the duffel bag and began throwing its contents all over her class. 

Tampons.

Their teacher was throwing fucking _tampons_ at them.

The sanitary items flew like a raging blizzard of white plastic and cotton. Natalie got hit in the eye by one and reeled back into Alyssa, who nearly toppled over in shock. Another got caught in Hayden’s hair and she clawed to get it out. Linda let out a piercing screech of alarm. Angie smirked at their hysteria, then threw the bag down at her feet, fuming both in rage and pride.

“I’m leaving,” Kaylee said, storming past the coach.

Something flashed in Angie’s eyes. 

Fury. Boiling hot fury.

Angie reached out, moving as quick as a cracking bullwhip, grabbed Kaylee’s by the arm, and yanked her backwards. Kaylee’s eyes went wide in disbelief.

“You can’t hit us!” Kaylee yelled.

“I barely touched you,” Angie said, as if she were talking to a whining younger sibling she had just punched in the face. 

“You’ll get canned for this,” Kaylee growled, tears of pain springing to her eyes. “See if you don’t, you bitch!”

“I don’t really care, Hargensen,” Angie said. “If you--or any of you--think I’m wearing my teacher hat right now, you are sadly mistaken.”

She backed up so she could glare at all the other girls, but didn’t release Kaylee from her vice. Kaylee’s eyes darted to Alyssa in a sort of plight for help, and Alyssa looked away uneasily. 

“I hope you all know what you did yesterday was a really shitty thing,” Angie said. To her left, Linda snickered, and she glared at her so fiercely it was a wonder Linda didn’t drop dead. “Do any of you ever stop to think that Carrie White has feelings?”

She looked around. Her rage only continued to build when she got no answer.

“Do any of you ever stop to think?” She narrowed her green eyes dangerously. “Helen? Frieda? Norma? Sue?”

Another pause. Angie seemed to be swelling up like a King Cobra.

“Oh,” She said as if she had just read their minds. “You think she’s ugly, don’t you?”

Linda snorted and made a “well obviously” face. Angie rounded on her, eyes flashing.

“Well, you’re ugly.”

The stupid, shit-eating grin Linda had been wearing was wiped clean from her face instantly.

“I saw just how ugly all of you were yesterday,” Angie said.

Kaylee suddenly reared up, shaking her head. 

“You can’t talk to us like that!” She snapped. 

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” Angie roared. She got in Kaylee’s face, smoke practically billowing from her ears and nostrils. “Open your mouth one more time, and I’ll plug you up.” She shoved Kaylee backwards, and Linda and Hayden scrambled to steady her when she nearly fell flat on her ass. “Want to find out if I’m telling the truth? There’s plenty of tampons here to see.”

Kaylee said nothing, but that didn’t stop her from glaring mutely at her coach. Angie backed away from her, smirking briefly. The rest of her girls were exchanging frantic, nervous looks, wondering if they were about to be murdered or beaten to death or something horrible like that. Personally, Alyssa thought they all deserved such a fate.

“Now,” Angie said, lowering her voice to a slightly calmer tone, “my punishment for this little charade you pulled was a three day suspension and refusal of your Prom tickets.”

An immediate uproar of unhappy gasps and murmurs eddied through the area. Alyssa found herself sighing with them, but did agree that that would be a good way to get back at all of them.

“That would hit you where it hurts, wouldn’t it? And you would deserve it, too.” Angie said. “Unfortunately, this administration is staffed entirely by men. I don’t think they have the slightest idea how utterly nasty what you did was.” A sneer tugged on the angered grooves in her face. “So you’ll get a week’s detention.”

Instant relief.

“But it’s MY detention,” Angie went on. “Fifty minutes. In the field. Every day. And I’m going to run you ragged!” 

They all could already feel their legs burning from exertion and throat aching from dry heaving so intensely, even more than they already were. 

“I won’t come,” Kaylee said.

“Alright,” Angie shrugged. “But I just want you to know that the punishment for skipping detention is a three day suspension and refusal of your prom tickets.”

There was that wave of unhappiness again, sweeping powerfully through the field, and Alyssa could tell it was music to Angie’s ears. The coach smirked wickedly.

“Get the picture?”

Grumbles and nods answered her.

“Good. Now,” Angie relaxed herself slightly. “Here’s how the rest of class is going to go: You’re all going to apologize to Carrie.”

There was an uproar of annoyed confusion. Angie rolled her eyes.

“Apologize to her in front of everyone.” Angie said. 

“And if we don’t?” Kaylee challenged.

“Do you really want to find out?” Angie said scathingly. She turned and strode away from the field to go retrieve Carrie [ _Winnie_ ] White from wherever she was, swathed in gleaming gold. 

The minute she was out of sight, Kaylee let out a roar of fury.

“That goddamn pig!” She yelled, working herself up to a proper fit. “This is all her fault!!”

“Let it go, Chris,” Alyssa said tiredly. She carefully eased herself to the ground, wincing when her throbbing muscles pulled and bent. Relief was short lived, because Kaylee came charging up to her a second later.

“Why are you taking her side?!” Kaylee cried.

“This isn’t about taking sides!” Alyssa cried back, a new sharpness in her voice. “What did Carrie White ever do to you? Or to any of us?”

A few of the girls exchanged looks, seemingly only now thinking about that, while others, like Kaylee, looked unfazed. Alyssa saw Kaylee’s fists clench tightly at her side, but she didn’t back down her own defense. She didn’t think Kaylee would strike her, but if she did, she liked to believe she could take her in a fight.

“My, my,” Kaylee said with sickly sweet venom in her voice. “Look who’s become the little Joan of Arc around here?” Her demeanor then switched, flaming into seething resentment, and Alyssa could now see that her best friend hated Carrie [ _Winnie_ ] White with every inch of her being--simply for existing. There was no rhyme or reason- she just despised the girl. “Oh yeah, remind me: who was in there pitching with the rest of us?”

Alyssa sucked in a sharp breath, but blew it out in a sigh. “I was.” She admitted.

“Yeah.” Kaylee sneered. Several of the other girls were packed behind her, backing her up, while a few, like Natalie, stood or sat in the middle, looking from the swarm of sweaty, angry teens to Alyssa and then back to the swarm nervously. 

“But I’m sorry,” Alyssa said.

Kaylee barked a laugh. “Sorry?” She laughed again, then turned to the girls behind her. “Hey, everyone, little Miss Perfect is sorry! She’s so sorry! Oh, Suzie is sorry!”

“She’s just a kid, Chris!”

“Bullshit!” Kaylee growled. “That Carrie White goes around saying how everyone except her and her psychotic mother are going straight to hell and you stick up for her?” Her face was beginning to grow red with rage, voice pitching and raising with her rising temper. “We should have taken those tampons and shoved them down her fucking throat.”

Alyssa gasped in horror. “Chris!” 

Kaylee rolled her eyes at her reaction.

“Chris. You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Yes, I can,” Kaylee said. “Come on, Suze! She walks around like she gets her Massengill blessed down at Holy Family.”

“She freaked out,” Alyssa said, trying to stay level-headed. “Cut her some slack.”

“No, she’s always freaking out!” Kaylee cried, flabbergasted. “Like that time she had that seizure a few months ago in gym class and told everyone that she was speaking in tongues.”

Alyssa winced at the memory. Winnie had dropped to the ground like a bird with broken wings out of nowhere in the middle of a game of soccer. Everyone crowded around her and just watched as she seized out of control in the grass, frothing at the mouth like she had rabies and making soundless screams. When she eventually snapped out of her spastic trance (with guard dog Angie knelt down beside her, glaring at the class), she began to babble these weird sentences like, “I’m blooming inside” and “There are spots in your souls.” It was strange, yes, but nothing she deserved to be made fun over, especially if she had a medical condition like epilepsy.

“Maybe she thought she was speaking in tongues,” Alyssa said.

“Oh, please,” Kaylee rolled her eyes. “She’s been working that martyr bit since third grade, and I’m sick of it.”

Alyssa sighed softly, mustering a rueful smile. “You’ll be strong.”

Kaylee narrowed her eyes dangerously. “When did you start acting all self righteous?” She said. “Oh, wait- it’s because you’re sorry, right? If that’s the case, then why did you keep running?”

“What?” Alyssa snapped.

“Why did you keep running?” Kaylee repeated. “If you’re so innocent, why did you keep running just now?”

“Because that’s what we were instructed to do,” Alyssa said. 

“Oh no,” Kaylee shook her head. “You kept running Sue, little Suze, because you’ve been dreaming of senior year and the perfect girlfriend and the perfect Prom your whole goddamn life.”

Alyssa winced. This was why she hated fighting with her best friend. Kaylee knew her weaknesses better than anyone and knew exactly where to sink her teeth into those sore spots to make her squirm.

“I bet you already booked the hotel,” Kaylee went on, cruelty dripping from her words like serpent’s venom. “Already…practiced the sounds you’re going to make…” She began to pant like she was being plowed into, rocking her body in a way that made several girls’s eyebrows raise up in interest. Alyssa’s face heated up with anger and embarrassment. “…when you and Tommy…make love…” She stopped after a moment, and the lust-filled expression on her face quickly contorted into one of hate and spite. “That’s why you had this bullshit change of heart. You don’t give a shit about Carrie White, and everybody knows it.”

“Chris!” Linda hissed, then jerked her head to the side, where the teal of Angie could be seen walking back over. The group quickly dispersed, getting back into their line, and Alyssa shook her head.

Angie stopped in front of them. At her side, little Winnie looked absolutely horrified. Her eyes were wide and paler than the moon in the light, and she kept fidgeting like she wanted to run. She was trying very hard not to look at any of the girls, but didn’t know where else to stare, so her gaze kept shifting around everywhere in a panic.

“Now, do you all have something to say to Carrie?” Angie said sternly.

“Carrie--” Alyssa stood up, gritting her teeth through the awful wave of pain that burned through her muscles. She slowly walked up to Winnie as to not frighten her, but Winnie still backed up into Angie’s side anyway. “Carrie, I’m sorry.”

Winnie hunched her shoulders in and looked away. 

“Frieda,” Angie said.

Hayden hesitated for just a moment, then gave in, “Sorry.”

“Your turn, Norma.”

Linda pressed her tongue against the inside of her lip and spat an uncaring, “Sorry.”

“Helen.”

Natalie squinted up at Carrie through the light, then said, “Oh. Sorry.”

“Lakynn.”

Jess shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Violet.”

Kay looked around at the others, as if she were waiting for a sign for her to not apologize, then said, “Sorry, Carrie.”

“Jewelia.”

Elisha seemed begrudging at first, but was encouraged by a fierce glare from Angie. “Sorry.”

“Maddisyn.”

“Sorry, Carrie,” Emily said breezily.

“Zoie.”

“Sorry,” Christy spit out.

“Alright, Chris,” Angie turned to the last straggler. “Let’s hear it.”

“When goddamn pigs fly…” Kaylee muttered stubbornly. A few giggles broke out around her. Angie narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“What was that?” Their coach said. “We’re waiting, Chris. I can’t hear you.”

“Please, it’s okay,” Winnie squeaked, gripping onto Angie’s sleeve. She looked up at her with the saddest, most scared eyes Alyssa had ever seen before. Angie gently touched her head in a form of reassurance, then instantly glared at Kaylee.

“I said--” Kaylee growled lowly.

“You don’t have to do this!”

Winnie was in front of Kaylee, now, hands outstretched like she wanted to grab onto her. Kaylee looked down at her, and Winnie backed up, clasping her hands together against her chest nervously.

“Carrie White?” Kaylee said softly, stepping towards the girl. She stooped down to her height and spat, “Carrie White eats shit!”

Winnie flinched backwards as if she were just sprayed with venom. Angie instantly got between her and Kaylee, acting as a protective shield of sorts.

“Good news, ladies!” She announced. “Because of Chris's comment, you will all be getting another week of detention with doubled time!”

The class simultaneously groaned, now turned against Kaylee. Kaylee clenched her fists, smoldering with rage.

“I’m not running another goddamn inch,” She snarled, “because Carrie White got her period and was too stupid to know what it was.”

Winnie flinched again, and Alyssa had the unbearable urge to run over to her and cover her ears so she wouldn’t have to hear this. Her own blood began to boil and she glared at her cousin.

“That’s it,” Angie said. “You’re suspended.”

That seemed to hit Kaylee like a punch to the gut. Her eyes bulged hugely out of their sockets.

“What?”

“You’re out of Prom and you’re out of my class,” Angie stated firmly. “Now.”

“No!” Kaylee shouted.

“NO?” Angie towered over her, eyes ablaze. She looked ready to rip Kaylee’s throat out, and Alyssa found that she wouldn’t quite mind seeing that happen.

“You can’t decide that!” 

“Watch me,” Angie said. 

“You can’t do this to us!” Kaylee squawked. “Someone could die of dehydration! Helen, you have a heart condition, don’t you?”

Natalie apparently decided that she didn’t know who Kaylee was, because she was looking at everything but her.

“If we all stick together, they can’t suspend all of us!” Kaylee said fervently. There was a spark of craziness in her eyes as she watched her group of friends crumble around her, suddenly not backed up anymore. “We didn’t do anything wrong!”

Winnie’s quiet whimper begged to differ. Angie looked at Kaylee in disgust. 

“Come on, guys!” Kaylee desperately attempted to rally them together. “Zoie? Lakynn? Norma? Frieda?” She spun around for somebody, anybody, and then her eyes landed on Alyssa. “Sue!” She strode over to her and clasped their hands together. “You’re with me on this, right?”

“Sue…” Angie warned.

Alyssa’s heart ached in her chest, despite the confrontation between them. Kaylee was looking at her with so much desperation and need. There were flickers of love in her gaze, love for her best friend, love that showed that the old Kaylee was still in there somewhere and ready to play harmless pranks with Alyssa again.

But when she looked right into her eyes, all she saw was Winnie on the floor of the locker room, crying and hyperventilating and surrounded by blood.

Her mind was made up.

“Come on, guys,” Alyssa pulled out of Kaylee’s grasp. Kaylee stared at her with a look of heartbreak and betrayal. 

Heartbreak and betrayal that morphed into something awful and sinister.

“You fucking bitch,” Kaylee seethed lowly, wheeling around to glare at Winnie. The poor girl was shaking like a leaf in the wind, practically cowering behind Angie. “I’ll get you for this! See if I don’t, you filthy pi--”

Kaylee’s words were silenced by a fierce slap across her face. She tottered backwards, and all the girls gasped and ogled the scene with wide eyes. Angie was scowling and rubbing her hand.

“You can’t--” Kaylee sputtered, and then yelped loudly as her collar was grabbed. Angie shook her roughly, screaming in her face.

“ONE MORE WORD OUT OF YOU AND I’LL MAKE YOU WISH YOU NEVER SHOWED UP TO SCHOOL TODAY!!” Angie roared. Then, to the others, “Class dismissed!”

Kaylee yanked out of grasp, breathing heavily. She backed away. “My daddy’s a lawyer! He’ll sue your ass!”

“SHUT UP!” Angie yelled.

“You’ll never get another job teaching!”

“Get moving!” Angie ordered the rest of the class. “All of you! _Now!_ ”

Natalie suddenly took off, screaming. The others watched her go, then looked at their coach, then followed hastily.

“Guys!” Kaylee called after them desperately.

“Shut up, Chris!” Alyssa rounded on her. “Just shut up! Not everything is about you!” She then turned and began following her classmates.

“You can all go to hell!” Kaylee screeched.

And she was right.


	12. Born To Have It All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oop another multi-POV chapters! please excuse how messy Do Me A Favor is. i tried my best.
> 
> also i had to mass edit this fic because Jules is a GUY not a girl, so i had to switch him to Linda

**Carrie "Winnie" White**

Winnie always hated when people would yell. It triggered an extreme sense of fight or flight inside of her, and she always chose flight, feeling like she had to run away from the source of the screaming. And she wanted to do that right now, as Kaylee and Miss Angie had a competition to see who could argue the loudest. Even after it was over and Miss Angie was leading her back inside, her ears were still ringing.

“Carrie,” Miss Angie started. “Oh, Carrie, if I’d had any idea it was going to turn out like this, I’d never--”

“Miss Gardener, you’ve got to let Chris go. You’ve just got to!” Winnie said.

“What are you talking about?” Miss Angie asked.

“Prom,” Winnie answered. “It’s very important to her.”

“And what’s right is important to me.”

“But Prom is everything to those girls! It’s the one night they get to get all dressed up and look beautiful!” Winnie’s voice trailed off slightly as she imagined herself in their shoes, being pretty and happy with friends, dancing with someone who cared about her. “It’s like a dream… A perfect dream.”

“And what about you?”

Winnie snapped out of her fantasy. She blinked at Miss Angie. “ _ Me _ ?”

“Yeah,” Miss Angie nodded.

“Oh, no, I’m not going,” Winnie said. “I’m different.”

“Not that different,” Miss Angie said.

“Yes, I am,” Winnie could faintly feel tingling in her fingertips, remembering the lights from the locker room and Mr. Barry’s office. “They’ve all got someone…”

“And so will you! One day, you’ll see! Things change!”

Winnie looked at her, unconvinced. She’d waited many days, and there was still nothing. She was still miserable and lonely.

“No, they won’t,” Winnie said, half-mumbling. She kicked the ground. “I don’t have anyone.”

“People can be really mean,” Miss Angie said.

Winnie nodded. 

( _ wasn’t that the truth. _ )

“I can’t really blame them, though... I guess I’d have stayed away from me, too.”

Thinking about it all was bringing back memories, ones that she hadn’t exactly forgotten so much as stopped thinking about over the years. She scratched one ear distractedly.

“...Y’know, I can actually kinda remember when it started. When the other people in the city sorta realized something was weird.” She shot a quick glance at Miss Angie to reassure herself that she was still interested in listening. “I, uhh...had friends once. Back in elementary school. Before other kids learned how--” She did air quotes. “--’messed up’ I was. But then they started saying they couldn’t play with me anymore, and parents would look strangely at me during pickup after school, and I was too young to really realize what I did wrong, you know? I think that was the worst part. Not knowing. At least now I have something to blame for my treatment.”

There was a quiet moment. The sound of bustling students was muffled by the walls of the gym as they dipped back into the school. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Miss Angie broke the silence. “Let’s pretend--”

“Oh, Miss Gardener--”

“Just for a minute!” Miss Angie continued quickly. “ _ Pretend  _ that the right someone comes up to you, and says,” She puffed herself up and did a funny voice, “‘Carrie, will you be my date for Prom?’” She stopped and looked at Winnie expectantly. “Well? What would you say?”

Winnie looked at her and said, “No.”

“ _ Carrie! _ ” Miss Angie said. “Why not?”

Winnie looked away, shuffling her feet. “I’m…not pretty.”

Miss Angie gasped, placing a hand over her heart. She came at Winnie, making her flinch back instinctively, and cupped her cheeks.

“Sure you are!”

Winnie wasn’t convinced, so Miss Angie began rummaging through her duffel bag for something. Winnie jumped and began skittering away, but Miss Angie blew her whistle and she froze in her tracks.

“Come here,” Miss Angie beckoned, holding something in her hand. 

Winnie looked at her warily, then shuffled back over. Miss Angie opened up a small pocket mirror and held it in front of her.

“See that? That’s a pretty girl.”

Winnie stared at her reflection, at her dull eyes, ratty hair, and sunken expression--

( _ staring at her petrified gaze, pale lips, and heavily-swathed right shoulder, she was shocked by her defeated appearance. the expression in her own eyes frightened her. they were so blank, so dead-- _ )

\--and pushed the mirror back, walking away from Miss Angie with her head hung low. 

How was she supposed to believe Miss Angie when she couldn’t even look at her own reflection?

_ “ _ _ So many years  _

_ You faced the world alone _

_ Frightened that life might pass you by,” _

Miss Angie’s voice, warm and smooth like molten honey, made Winnie stop in her tracks. She swallowed thickly, trying to not give in to the nurturing words being sung to her. They weren’t real, they couldn’t be real.

_ “Then they appear _

_ Someone who smiles at you _

_ This is no time to question why,” _

It had been one of her fantasies for years- pretending that someone would come and save her. At night, when she cried herself to sleep, she would imagine a nice lady was there, one that was more of a mother than her Mama was, stroking her hair and wiping her tears and telling her everything would be okay. It got her through some of the darker parts of her life, but she knew, she always knew, that it wasn’t true.

_ “Love can find you when you least expect _

_ Funny how two lives connect,” _

Miss Angie walked over to her slowly, as if she were approaching a scared animal. Winnie watched as she set one hand on her shoulder, then did the same with the other, and that touch alone was enough to make Winnie’s head feel fuzzy. She couldn’t help but lift a hand and grab at Miss Angie’s fingers like a baby red koala clinging onto its mother.

_ “That’s how it starts _

_ Two unsuspecting hearts,” _

Winnie thought to her Mama, to her burning eyes and sharp tongue, and ripped away from Miss Angie, walking away a few paces, crossing her arms over her chest.

_ “Let yourself go!” _

Miss Angie went after her, taking her by the hands and spinning her around. Winnie couldn’t help but giggle, struggling to smother her smile.

_ “Give someone half a chance _

_ Maybe they’re waiting just for you _

_ You never know, this could be paradise _

_ Maybe your dreams just might come true _

_ And you never know how things might go _

_ Once you share that first ‘hello,’” _

Miss Angie bumped Winnie gently, making her giggle again. It was hard to keep her eyes off of her favorite teacher, especially when she was being so affectionate.

_ That's how it starts _

_ Two unsuspecting hearts,” _

“Oh, I don’t know, Miss Gardner--” Winnie said, shaking her head.

“And you never will if you don’t give it a chance!” Miss Angie turned her around to face her. “Now listen to me: you are a beautiful young woman.

Winnie blinked in shock. “Me?!”

“Yes, you, silly you!” Miss Angie cupped Winnie’s cheeks, and her hands were warm against Winnie’s skin. She couldn’t help but lean into them. “Look at those eyes! And those lips! With the right shade of lipstick--

Winnie reared back. “Lipstick?! My mother would never--”

“And with the perfect dress--” Miss Angie went on. “Carrie! It could be wonderful!”

Winnie kicked her feet against the ground and looked up at Miss Angie nervously.

_ “In a world where nothing’s sure and nothing’s ever guaranteed _

_ You should trust the way you feel _

_ That’s the only thing that’s real,” _

Miss Angie opened her arms out wide to Winnie. Her voice was like the voice of an angel’s choir.

_ “It’s like magic how your spirit soars _

_ Once you feel their hand in yours _

_ That’s how it starts _

_ Two unsuspecting hearts,” _

_ “In a world where nothing’s sure and nothing’s ever guaranteed,”  _ Winnie joined in with Miss Angie, unable to help herself.

_ “Nothing’s guaranteed,”  _ Miss Angie beamed at her. 

“ _ You should trust the way you feel,” _

_ “Trust the way you feel, _

_ “That’s the only…” _

_ “Thing that’s real!”  _ Miss Angie and Winnie came together. Miss Angie took Winnie’s hands in her own, holding them tightly. “ _ It’s like magic, how your spirit soars,” _

_ “Once you feel their hand in yours,”  _ Winnie sang, pulling Miss Angie’s hands to her face and nuzzling her cheek against them.

_ “That’s how it…” _

_ “That’s how it…” _

_ “That’s how it starts,” _

_ “Two unsuspec--” _

_ “Two unsuspec--” _

_ “--ting hearts!” _

Miss Angie pulled Winnie into a hug, shocking Winnie for a moment before she realized what was happening and hugged back tightly, relishing the warmth.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been hugged.

* * *

**Sue “Alyssa” Snell**

The library.

Nobody ever harassed kids or threw tampons at them in the library. They were always too busy to pick on anyone, and that was one of the reasons why Alyssa had picked the location to share the decision she had made with her girlfriend. People didn’t care about anyone else in there, instead hunched over tables with research spread out over the surface, clicking furiously on computers, scribbling in notepads on the windowsill nooks, and reading, reading, reading.

“Hey, can I run something by you?” Emma’s voice broke through the silence. She was peered out of the journal she was writing in like a curious speckled bear.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Alyssa admitted. The Thing was itching at the back of her throat like a gnawing fire ant. 

“You go first.”

“No, you.”

“Okay,” Emma sat back. “So I was thinking… You know how everything’s laid out in front of us, our whole future, all planned out?”

“Yeah?” Alyssa tilted her head.

“Well, I thought I might try something different.”   
“Different?”

“What would happen if I put the whole sports thing on hold and see if I’ve got what it takes to be a writer?” 

Alyssa’s eyes widened, but Emma must have taken it the wrong way because she went on, “Too much, huh? I knew it was stupid…”

“No, no!” Alyssa scooped her hands up in her own, squeezing them. “It’s epic!”

Emma perked up. “Epic?”

“Yes!” Alyssa smiled at her. “You could be an amazing writer!”

“Yeah? You mean it?” Emma blushed slightly. “Thanks.” She shook off her bashfulness. “So, what did you want to ask me?”

“Oh, nothing. That’s okay.” Alyssa said, and the fire ant dug its stinging mandibles back into the soft flesh of the back of her throat.

“Come on,” Emma nudged her. “What’s really been going on with you?”

“You wouldn’t understand…”

“Not fair. Try me.”

Alyssa looked at her girlfriend. Emma was so ready to shoulder her burdens, even without knowing what they were. It was one of the many reasons she loved her.

She just hoped this wouldn’t ruin that.

_ “Tommy, lately, I’ve just not been feelin’ right _

_ I’m so ashamed of how we’ve all been treating Carrie White _

_ Now I realize this is hardly your concern _

_ I hate to drag you into this, but I’ve got nowhere else to turn _

_ Do me a favor?” _

_ “Do me a favor?”  _ The sound of other kids echoed throughout the library.  _ “Whatcha say?” _

_ “Do me a favor,”  _ Alyssa said, looking into Emma’s warm hazel eyes.

_ “Do me a favor, wanna play?” _ Echoed the voices.

Elsewhere, Kaylee and Greg were locked in a heated makeout session on the couch.

“Oh, baby!” Greg groaned, grinding his hips. “Yes, yes, yes!!”

“No, Billy--” Kaylee suddenly pushed him off, sending him to the floor. “I’m not in the mood!”

“What the hell?” Greg said, rubbing his bare back. “Why’d you stop?”

“I’m pissed!” Kaylee snapped at him like an enraged she-devil. 

“Jesus, can’t you just forget about it?” 

Kaylee gave him a smoldering glare. “I don’t wanna forget about it, Billy. They humiliated me. And you know who I blame? That God damn freak!”

Her voice was fiery and full of hateful passion when she began to sing:

_ “There’s something that Carrie White will just have to learn _

_ If she plays with fire, she’s gonna get burned! _

_ I want her to pay up for all that she cost me _

_ And make her good and sorry that she ever crossed me!”  _

She whirled around to her boyfriend, who was still on the ground.

_ “You gotta help me,” _

_ “If you help me!”  _ Alyssa sang.

_ “I could even up this debt _

_ And we could both give Carrie White a night she won’t forget,” _

_ “Do me a favor!”  _ The other kids parroted.

“Both? What do you mean, both?” Emma blinked.

“Me? What do you need me for?” Greg said.

“Revenge, Billy. And you’re gonna help me get it.” Kaylee explained. “By the time we’re done with her, that toad’s not gonna know what hit her!”

_ “You always amaze me with the way that you think,”  _ Greg crooned. “ _ If I was your Daddy, I would buy you a shrink! _

_ You’re pissed off! _

_ That’s so hot! _

_ I like you this way _

_ Whatever your game is, girl, I'm ready to play!” _

In the library, Alyssa looked at Emma with so much love, so much adoration, and that was making this hurt even more. But she had to.

It was the only way.

_ “I’ve been thinking 'bout how happy she would be _

_ If only you’d take Carrie to the prom instead of me…” _

Emma was speechless, staring at her with wide eyes and a jaw hanging open.

_ “Na na na na na na na na na! _

_ Na na na na na na na na! _

_ Na na na na na na na na na!”  _

The chanting of the other kids was only making this worse.

_ “Do what?!”  _ Emma finally exploded, jumping to her feet and making her chair clatter to the ground. “ _ Who do you want me to invite? _

_ I thought  _

_ That was supposed to be our night! _

_ I know  _

_ You’re only tryin’ to do what’s right _

_ But woah! _

_ I won’t be taking Carrie White!” _

Alyssa sighed. She knew this would be difficult, but her throbbing headache, overwhelming guilt, and images of her gorgeous prom dress flashing in her head didn’t make this any better.

_ “Think of Carrie!”  _ Alyssa said. “ _ I’ve said everything I could! _

_ But one small act of kindness might change Carrie’s life for good! _

The other kids began to count down from ten as she and Emma talked over the decision.

“Think about what you’re asking me here!” Emma said. “I’m sorry, I-- I just can’t do this.”

Alyssa sighed again. Wounded, she exclaimed, “Okay nevermind!”

“Sue--” Emma reached after her.

“No!” Alyssa whirled around to her. “I need to try to fix this!”

Emma stared at her for a long moment, then, begrudgingly, “Fine!”

_ “Come on, come on!”  _ The kids chanted.

_ “Okay, okay, okay!”  _ Emma yelled, and Alyssa threw her arms around her.

_ “Oh, baby!”  _ The kids shouted. “ _ Oh, baby!” _

_ “There’s something _

_ That Carrie White’ll _

_ Just have to learn _

_ If she plays with fire _

_ Then she’s gonna get burned!”  _ Kaylee belted.

_ “Once you _

_ Help me _

_ We can _

_ Even up _

_ This debt,”  _ Alyssa intoned.

_ “Only I _

_ Can do it! _

_ Only I get _

_ Really get _

_ Down to it!”  _ Greg chirped eagerly.

_ “I will! _

_ I would do anything for you _

_ But still! _

_ What am I getting into?”  _ Emma groveled.

_ “I’m beggin’! _

_ I’m pleadin’!  _

_ I’m down on my knees!”  _ Alyssa and Kaylee came together to sing.

All of their voices merged into one.

_ “If you really love me, well, then, baby, baby, please, _

_ Do me a favor!” _

* * *

**Mr. “Barry” Stephens**

Meeting with parents was never easy for someone as soft as Barry, but it especially wasn’t easy when he was being glared at by a psychotically religious woman who was looking at him as if he were a moth that she just found nibbling on her favorite robes.

Mrs. [ _ Dee Dee _ ] White was as mangy as her child, but slightly more filled out than Winnie was. She was raggedy and bedraggled, with gaunt facial features and fingers like a skeleton’s. Tangles of auburn hair were frazzled around her pale face, revealing her tanned, narrow neck to the light of the overhead fluorescents, and Barry concluded that Winnie must have gotten most of her features from her father because she looked nothing like this banshee of a woman dressed in a grey-blue gown before him. Especially their hair, but also the eyes. While Winnie’s were a bright, moon-like silver, Dee Dee’s were golden-brown and piercing, yet tired and haunted, and she was looking at Barry like she already hated him.

“Unseasonably warm weather we’ve been having, huh?” Barry said, trying to make some kind of small talk. 

Dee Dee’s expression did not change, but she offered a dry, “Warm?”

“Yes!” Barry nodded. “Seems like the whole world is out of whack.”

Nervously, he glanced at the clock, wondering where Angie was. He fiddled with a pen on his desk, and a few droplets of ink came splattering out. He cleared his throat.

“Hurricanes, earthquakes, forest fires… Everywhere you look, there’s something unnatural!” He spoke again. “I mean, what’s next? Locusts?” He laughed.

Dee Dee did not.

He stopped.

Dee Dee sniffed. She raked her burning eyes over Barry’s maroon sweater, probably finding it very shameful.

Even more shameful, however, was Angie’s teal tank tap and black Adidas jacket wrapped around the waist of her equally black Adidas sweatpants, but she didn’t seem to be thinking about that or the modesty of keeping her breasts covered when she finally came jogging in. Hints of her dark indigo sports bra could be seen, and Dee Dee wrinkled her nose at the detail in disgust.

“Mr. Stephens, I am so sorry I’m late--” Angie said, panting.

“It’s alright,” Barry assured her.

Angie turned, noticing Dee Dee sitting there. “Oh, Mrs. White! It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m Lynn Gardener!”

She thrusted her hand out to Dee Dee, the muscles in her arm rippling and dripping with sweat, but Dee Dee merely stared at it with great disdain.

“You’re the gym teacher,” Dee Dee oozed.

“Yes, I am,” Angie said, withdrawing her hand. She looked down at herself, finally catching Dee Dee’s stares. “Sorry, I didn’t have a chance to change.”

Dee Dee didn’t say anything, so Angie grimaced awkwardly and sat down next to Barry.

“I regret that we need to meet this way, but I do appreciate you coming in to discuss this…unfortunate incident over Carrie,” Barry said. 

“‘Incident?’” Dee Dee echoed.

Barry and Angie exchanged looks for a moment. 

“The episode in the showers,” Barry specified.

“You know, I went to this school,” Dee Dee said. “Many years ago.”

“Oh, how interesting,” Angie said. “Things must have changed a lot since you were a student here.”

“Not so much.” 

“Mrs. White, about Carrie--”

“You’re not from around here,” Dee Dee interrupted Barry, and Barry snapped his mouth shut instantly. She was staring at Angie so fiercely that it was a miracle that Angie’s fire hadn’t burst into flames.

“No,” Angie said slowly. “No, I’m not.” She glanced at Barry again. “Mrs. White, Carrie’s a great girl. She feels things deeply, which is why it made the incident in the shower so traumatic.”

Dee Dee raised one eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“I just want to assure you that all the other girls have been severely reprimanded,” Barry informed her.

“Do you still believe children are innately good?” Dee Dee asked out of the blue, startling both Barry and Angie.

“Well, yes,” Angie answered honestly. “Yes, I do.”

“You’ll learn,” Dee Dee said. “My Carrieta  _ is  _ a good girl.”

Linda suddenly bounded inside, waving a piece of paper. “Here you go, Mr. Stephens!” She chirped.

Dee Dee wrinkled her nose at her clothing. “Your children are wandering around in the wilderness of sin these days,” She muttered.

Barry glanced over the sheet of paper. “Thank you, Norma.”

Linda puffed her chest out proudly at being useful, then looked over at Dee Dee. Angie pushed her back out when she opened her mouth to say something.

“Mrs. White, about Carrie--”

But, once again, like before, Barry was interrupted by Dee Dee.

“I have something here that will interest you,” Dee Dee began digging through her purse, then stood up and shoved two pamphlets into both Barry and Angie’s hands.

“‘ _ The Teenagers Path To Salvation Through The Cross Of Christ, _ ’” Angie read off.

“Ma’am,” Barry said, tucking the pamphlet away. “I assure you, our kids are good kids.”

“As demonstrated by what happened under  _ your  _ watch? Under  _ your  _ care?” Dee Dee said, disbelieving. “We live in godless times.”

“Yes, I will drink to that,” Angie said, raising the water bottle she had and taking a sip.

Dee Dee glared at her. “Do you think this is funny? Do you think this is some kind of joke?” She spat. “I am here on the Lord’s work!”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake…” Barry ran a hand through his hair.

“Thou shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain!” Dee Dee suddenly shouted, her voice going shrill and making Barry jump. “The Lord God will not be mocked, and neither will I!” She advanced on Barry, and Barry thought he was going to strike him with the metal rosary around her neck, but then Angie got between them.

“Mrs. White--”

Dee Dee rounded on her, seething with overzealous insanity. “He has appointed a day of Judgement, and on that day, there shall be a rain of blood! Only those that call upon his name shall be saved. If that day were to come tomorrow, will you be ready?” She whipped her head around to Barry. “Will  _ you _ ?”

She then turned and stormed out, leaving Barry and Angie in silence.

“Well,” Angie breathed. “That went better than I expected, at least.”

* * *

**Carrie “Winnie” White**

For most of her life, books had been Winnie’s only friends.

Books accepted you the way you were and shared all their secrets with you.

Books never told you that you were creepy or called you a monster or a freak or a pig or any other mean names.

Books never said,  _ “Carrie White eats shit.” _

That being said, the library was her favorite spot in the whole school.

Nobody was ever mean to her in the library.

A kind of peace settled over her the moment she had stepped inside, breathing in the crisp smell of books. She felt like she belonged here, with all the oddities of literature, even if she didn’t belong anywhere else. In here, there were answers and information and thousands of stories waiting for her to read…right behind Mama’s back. 

Mama didn’t like her reading a lot of things, especially young adult novels. But what Mama didn’t know was that she was already ankle-deep in a franchise about wild cats who were in clans and several other standalone books. When she was at school, the Bible was not Her Holy Book.

It was there when she found answers to the strange tingling she had been feeling since the incident in the shower.

“ _ Telekinesis _ ,” Winnie read from the book she had dug out from one of the many shelves. “ _ The ability to move objects by sheer force of the mind alone. Scientifically unproven, the phenomenon is thought to be electrochemical in nature…”  _ She began to grow excited. “ _ Numerous incidents have been reported of individuals possessing such an ability. They are termed ‘anomalies.’” _

She looked up, eyes aglow with awe.

“Anomaly…”

She put the book down and looked around, then sat down at one of the chairs in the more secluded part of the library. She stared intently at the book.

_ Flex _

Sweat began to soak her pale face, running down porcelain skin in stinging, salty trails. Her eyes, glazed and narrowed, never left the book sitting on the table in front of her.

_ Flex _

The book moved.

Something strange was going on deep within her. Respiratory had dropped to 6 breaths per minute. Blood pressure was up to 190/100. Heartbeat thumping at 140 beats per minute. Temperature down to 93°. Muscles and tendons tightened. Immune system kicked into overdrive, white blood cells being produced faster, lymph nodes swelling up in response to an infection that wasn’t there. Her body was burning energy she didn’t have. When she would check her weight later that night, she would find that she had lost ten pounds in one day.

_ Flex _

141, 142, 143, 144, 145… Her heart rate was speeding up to a highly abnormal and normally very dangerous pace.

But...this wasn’t very dangerous, was it? 

It was...natural.

_ Flex _

Winnie could remember the first time she felt this way. It had started with a similar intense stress like the one she felt in the showers when she got her first period, and then was followed by her body functions changing in a way she couldn’t understand at the young age of seven.

Mama was there when it happened. Mama was

[ **_you lustful little imp you naughty girl why would you look_ **

_ i’m sorry Mama i’m sorry i didn’t mean to _ ]

mad. Winnie had snuck over to the neighbor’s yard, where the teenage daughter, Stella Maximoff, was sunbathing with her top off. She pointed to her breasts and asked what they were, and Linda had told her in amusement.

[ _ i wish i had some _

**you will one day when you’re older, and i’ll bet they’ll be real pretty, too**

_ no i won’t Mama says good girls don’t _

**she said what**

_ she said she was bad when she made me… that’s why she has them… calls them dirty pillows _

**you mother’s a total hypocrite she’s like a C-cup** ]

And then Mama had caught her, furious and sickened, and took Winnie back inside.

The little girl she used to be, the poor little girl, screamed like she was being gutted alive, and everyone down the street

[ _ Mama Mama stop stop it Mama i’m sorry i’m sorry i looked _

**_dirty little girl you whore you lust-filled dog_ ** ]

could hear it.

There were fingers around her throat, she remembered the skeleton fingers. Mama’s big thumbs pressing down on her little airways, choking her, strangling her, suffocating her. She tried to fight, 

[ _ Ma-ma, s-top-- can’t b-reathe-- M-ama-- my throat oh Mama my throat-- blood--on my tongue-- Mama Mama Mama _ ]

tried to get away, but Mama was much too strong for her tiny body. 

Mama throttled and wrung her neck like a little bird’s, listening to the brilliant sound of her nerves crackling and bones cracking and collarbone chipping away at the pressure. At the time, she didn’t know that the only thing that had saved her from a broken neck was her own powers telekinetically holding her spinal cord firmly in place.

She hadn’t felt the flex then. Mama on top of her distracted her from the sensation of her gift.

[ **_o slut little slut you have to be punished for your lust filled thoughts_ ** ]

Mama got off of her, and Winnie laid broken on the floor, swollen blue tongue lolling out of her mouth, throat inflamed with black bruises, blood in her eyes from asphyxiation. She was sprawled like a calf cut down from a hook in the slaughterhouse, gurgling on her metallic blood, drooling and frothing all over the living room carpet. She wasn’t breathing, not really, not on her own, it hurt too much to do so, so her powers grasped the air around her and pulled it into her lungs so she wouldn’t suffocate. The gifts worked her heart, keeping it thumping in a steady rhythm as it flexed her larynx to deliver the much-need oxygen.

[ _ Mama Mama Mama help i can’t breathe Mama my chest it hurts it hurts Mama my eyes there’s blood in my eyes _ ]

Then, Mama was there again, wielding a giant butcher’s knife and a Bible. Her eyes were lit up with a sick, diseased light, drool on her chin, panting like a rabid dog. She hobbled to Winnie,

[ **_o you wicked slut o you slut i’ll cut it out i’ll cut it out and you’ll never see that vile nakedness again_ ** ]

squawking words so slurred Winnie could barely understand them. She mounted that poor little girl, who barely breathed below her and stared up at her with blood-filled eyes.

[ **_those eyes those eyes those wicked grey eyes look at the blood in them the blood the blood the blood brings sin_ ** ]

Winnie foamed and burbled at the mouth, bruised throat aching, deprived lungs burning, telekinetic powers shifting. She wept and wailed and pleaded,

[ _ o Mama stop please Mama i didn’t mean to Mama please stop it hurts Mama it hurts why don’t you CARE] _

but Mama did not stop, Mama stabbed and gouged and skewered her

[ **_eyes those eyes i need to cut out those eyes and that tongue too that tongue has tasted sin i will remove that sinful nastiness from you my sweet little slut_ ** ]

sin, Mama cut and sliced away her

[ _ throat my throat o Mama my throat it hurts so much make it stop Mama it hurts too much _ ]

evilness.

And then, there was a  _ flex _ and a  **_fission_ ** and something came down against the house.

The Rain of Stones began and Mama began to scream. She dropped the Bible and the knife

[ _ yes yes good no more hurt Mama i am not bad _ ]

and stumbled backwards, shrieking in terror, in a way Winnie had never heard before. She dropped to her knees, still drooling all over herself like an insane hellhound, and began to pray furiously while the house was stormed with burning rocks from the heavens around her. Holes in the porch, craters in the lawn, scorch marks in the shingles, flickers of weak ethereal flames on the outer walls. 

Destruction.

Pure destruction.

[ **_it’s you you little witch imp demon devil spawn this is YOU_ ** ]

And then, Mama fainted. Winnie fainted, too. And when she woke up, everything was as it should be, the knife back in the kitchen, the Bible back on the table, the blood wiped from the floor. Mama dressed the giant black and blue bruises on her neck, and Winnie did not ask how she got them. Mama made a makeshift sling for the broken collarbone she didn’t even realize she had, and she didn’t ask about how she got that, either. They didn’t talk about it, didn’t fill the craters in the yard, didn’t repair the holes in the porch, and it was forgotten little by little.

Until now, of course, because Winnie finally recognized this feeling within her.

_ Flex _

The book slid off the table and clattered to the floor.

At the same moment, Linda passed by, looking down at her phone and oblivious to what had happened.

“Hey, Carrie,” Linda said, looking Winnie up and down. “That’s a…fierce sweater!” She tittered, then walked off.

Winnie stood up, feeling her muscles and tendons tingle at the loss of tension in her limbs, and picked up the book, putting it into her messenger bag. Her body functions slowly returned to normal, heartbeat slowing down, blood pressure lowering, breathing evening out, temperature rising. The only thing that stayed at a peak were her nerves, but instead of anxiety, all she felt was excitement.

She was  _ special.  _

Grinning giddily, Winnie ran off, a hop in her step.


	13. Outside, Looking In

**Tommy “Emma” Ross**

“Sue…” Emma groaned as she was dragged along by her girlfriend.

“Come on!” Alyssa heaved her arm.

“It’s gonna rainnnnn!” Emma whined.

“I don’t careeeeee!” Alyssa matched her tone, and Emma couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, we’re almost there!”

“How do you even know where she lives?” Emma asked.

“Norma knows a guy,” Alyssa answered.

“Ah,” Emma nodded, not doubting it. “I hope you know I’m gonna look pretty stupid when she turns me down.”

“She won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” Alyssa said. “She wants a friend, and she sees that in you. She’s just too shy to ask herself.”

“And what makes you think I’m not shy, huh?” Emma challenged.

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Tommy, you eat raw onions like they’re apples in public.”

( **HA! someone in the audience gagged! pussy.** )

“You are  _ not  _ shy.”

“I do do that,” Emma said. “I just-- are you, like, high?” 

“What?” Alyssa’s head snapped to her. She blinked at her. “Wh-- no!”

“Let’s make a rule,” Emma went on anyway. “If they do something in a Freddie Prince Jr. movie, we’re not allowed to do it in real life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You want me to take Carrie White to Prom.” Emma began to explain. “Which is like that movie where Freddie bets he can turn this she-geek into a prom queen. Except, unlike Carrie White, this chick is a supermodel, but we’re not supposed to know it because she’s wearing glasses or something.” Alyssa just looked at her, so she went on, “I got the whole ‘me take Carrie to Prom’ thing, but there are a couple things I don’t understand.”

“Name them.”

“One, what good would it do? And two,  _ again _ , how do you even know she’ll say yes? Like, her wanting to be friends with me doesn’t really cut it, babe.  _ Everyone  _ wants to be friends with me. I’m great!”

“I just do, okay?” Alyssa said. “You said you stood up for her when Billy was messing with her, even though no one else did. Not even I do that, and I want to help her.”

Emma tipped her head thoughtfully. “I guess she did compliment my poem.”

Alyssa laughed slightly. “Exactly!”

“But I still want to go with you.”

Alyssa groaned loudly and buried her head in her hands. Emma reached out and patted her head.

“There, there,” She said.

“You aren’t helping,” Alyssa growled. Emma smiled at her when she looked up. “Tommy…please listen to me. I’m trying to make things right.”

“Because of what happened in the showers?”

“It’s more than that,” Alyssa admitted guiltily. “Carrie’s been bullied and tormented for years, ever since elementary school. I’ve joined in on it sometimes. And I’m only now realizing how terrible it was and how awful I am and I’m so, so guilty and I just NEED to do one thing right.”

Emma pursed her lips. “But…isn’t she, like, super religious? If I take her as a date, then…”

“Not as a date-date, you doofus,” Alyssa said. “Just as a friend. She needs one. Really badly.”

“I mean, yeah, I wasn’t gonna bang a fifteen-year-old,” Emma said.

“I sure hope you wouldn’t,” Alyssa said uneasily. “We’re dating. You’re also eighteen.”

“But okay,” Emma went on. “If gender clearly doesn’t matter, then why don’t you bring her? Or we all go as a group or something?”

Alyssa sighed and began to rub her forehead. “Believe me, if I could bring her, I would, but the poor thing gets so scared when I’m around her. No matter what I do or say, she just keeps closing herself off even more. And we can’t go as a group because 1) you know she would third-wheel big time, 2) we’d probably forget she’s there because we're too wrapped up in each other to notice, and 3) I don’t even deserve to go. Not after what I’ve done.”

“You really shouldn’t beat yourself up over it,” Emma said gently. “You’re a kid. Kids do stupid things.”

Alyssa shook her head. “No, Tommy, I’m not a kid. I’m eighteen. I’m an adult. Carrie is a kid.” She paused for a moment, then shook her head again, like she was trying to dislodge all the guilty thoughts sticking to her brain. “Hardly anybody ever finds out their actions actually really hurt someone. People don’t get better, they just get smarter. When you get smarter, you don’t stop pulling the wings off flies, you just think of better reasons for doing it. Lots of kids say they feel sorry for Carrie White--mostly girls, and  _ that’s _ a laugh--but I bet none of them understand what it’s like to  _ be _ Carrie White, every second of every day. And they don’t really care.”

“And you do?” Emma asked.

“I don’t know!” Alyssa cried. “But Tommy--I told you: one small act of kindness might change Carrie’s life for good.”

Emma was quiet.

“Take her to Prom and be nice to her and hold her hand,” Alyssa said softly. “Give her a magical night that she’ll always remember. And when she looks back on it, she’ll smile because the most wonderful, sweet, amazing girl took her to Prom and was her friend.” She ducked her head to meet Emma’s gaze, a small smile creeping up on her lips. “Please?”

“I already said yes,” Emma grumbled. “And I was still gonna do it. But FINE.”

Alyssa’s smile became full. “ _ Thank  _ you.”

But the moment they reached the creepy White bungalow, Emma immediately wanted to change her mind.

“Oh no you don’t!” Alyssa grappled her when she tried to run, carrying her up to the stoop. “You’re asking! You said yes!”

“UGHHHHH,” Emma groaned overdramatically. “I’m too nice.” She wiggled out of Alyssa’s arms and smoothed out her shirt. “Okay.  _ Okay.  _ I’m gonna do it.”

“Good!”

“You can go wait in the car. I’ll be there soon.”

“Ha! No.”

Emma did a double take. “Why? It’s gonna rain soon.”

“You really think I’m gonna trust you?” Alyssa laughed. “Sorry, darling, but I need to make sure you ask her.”

“I  _ am! _ ” Emma said. “Also, don’t you think she’s more likely to say no if she sees you?”

“Oh, she won’t see me.”

“What?”

And then Alyssa jumped into one of the overgrown bushes edging the stoop. 

Emma blinked. “Sue--”

“Shhh,” Alyssa hushed her. “I’m a bush.”

“Uhh-- okay.”

Having no other choice, Emma walked up the steps of the front porch and knocked on the door.  There were cracks inside the frame and the hinges were green. It looked like it would fall over if the curved door knob was yanked too hard.

The tumblers of a locking mechanism fell away with a grinding crack. When the front door was pulled open, the hinges protested with a deafening creak, sounding as though the rotten wood was splintering even as the heavy door scraped along the floor. 

And then, there was Carrie [ _ Winnie _ ] White, emerging from the darkness of the front hallway of her house, looking thoroughly freaked out.

Up close like this, Emma realized this was the first time she ever really got a good look at Winnie (because she never bothered to before). The girl before her was far from hideous like everybody seemed to say. She had porcelain skin with no hints of acne, but, rather, the old, faded shadows of numerous bruises that were spattered across her soft, youthful features like blue and purple paint that would never truly wash away no matter how hard she scrubbed. Her hair was shaggy, a lock of bangs drifting into one of her eyes for an unintentional emo-like look, and bright blood red, glimmering like silken strands of rubies in the half light. Her eyes were as pale as the moon reflecting on ice, casting dark bags underneath their sockets. Her head was narrow, with hollowed cheeks and big, round ears like a mouse’s. The forest green cardigan she was wearing practically drowned her body, which lacked a severe amount of muscles and body fat, but still somehow looked fitting for her type of demeanor rather than frame. She smelled like rosemary and cinnamon, reminiscent of her breakfast that morning.

Winnie looked...worried.

Normally, that wouldn’t strike Emma in any meaningful way, not if she were at anyone else's door. E veryone got worried sometimes, although a fair number of people felt better after talking to her because she was just _that good_. But for all that had happened in her life, Winnie had maintained a rarely-changing expression of passivity throughout the time she’d been in school. Perhaps as a defense mechanism, perhaps simply because that was her resting face; the girl just kept her emotions to herself. However, now, it was incredibly visible that she was experiencing the worst kind of gnawing fear if you knew how to look for it- nails digging into her arms as she crossed them over her chest, eyes darting all over, and her heel pressing against her other shin like she was trying to keep from anxious tapping. The only reason her lip wasn’t chewed raw was because her jaw was hanging open slightly in shock.

Immediately, the disappointment of having to ask a girl that wasn't her girlfriend to Prom turned to alarm bells.

The two just looked at each other for a few seconds, neither seemingly willing to break the silence first. Then, slowly, Emma took one tiny step closer, and Winnie instinctively moved back. Now Winnie's fingers were digging into her arm more. Emma felt the strongest urge to reach out and check to make sure she hadn’t broken skin, but at the same time, she feared that if she tried to move too quickly she would spook this very obviously troubled girl back into her usual repression. It would be wiser to wait for her to get more comfortable with her before making any rash moves.

The silence dragged on longer, with Emma blinking and Winnie staring at her with the eyes of a little red calf about to get its throat cut open.

And then: “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

The sentence was hissed, as if Winnie didn’t want anyone to overhear them. She looked over her shoulder, into the darkened abyss of her house, then back at Emma in disbelief, like she had been expecting her to disappear when she pulled her gaze away.

“So…” Emma rocked back on her heels, looking up at the old stoop. “This is where you live, huh? Aren’t you gonna ask me in?”

Shaking her head, Winnie said, “Mama--” She looked back again. “Mama’s resting. How do you know where I live?”

“Norma knows a guy.”

Winnie opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again and demanded in a low tone, “What do you want?”

Was that...frustration in Winnie’s eyes? No...she was just guarded. Very guarded. She had more walls put up around herself than any normal person should have--not that Carrie [ _ Winnie _ ] White was anything but normal. 

“Wow, right to the point, huh?” Emma said, trying to joke, but Winnie continued to stare at her in silence. “O-kay…” She cleared her throat. “You know how Prom is this Saturday?”

Winnie said nothing. Emma quickly started speaking again.

“Well, I was wondering, if you didn’t have a date…would you like to go with me?”

Winnie closed her eyes in a very long blink, and Emma could practically see the gears in her head shifting as she processed what had just been said to her. Her forehead creased, lips trembling ever so slightly, nostrils twitching. Then, she opened her eyes again and Emma could see so many emotions flashing in that silver gaze--fear, wonderment, disbelief, glee, confusion. No anger, though. Emma had expected at least a hint of anger at being disturbed or spoken to over this topic, but there was none.

“What?”

“The Prom. It’s this Saturday--”

“I don’t like being tricked.”

Winnie was moving before Emma had even really finished her sentence, like only then she had fully understood the words spoken to her. She began trying to push Emma back down the stoop, glancing into her house nervously every few seconds, as if she were expecting some kind of hideous monster to come crawling out from all the noise.

“Carrie!”

Emma nearly tripped on one of the steps, but managed to steady herself. She twisted around to Winnie

“Carrie, hey! Stop!”

Winnie stopped and looked up at her with barely-contained terror. When she spoke, her words were surprisingly sharp with hidden thorns.

“Do you people think you can just go on tricking me forever?” 

“This isn’t a trick,” Emma said sincerely.

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Not at all.” 

“I know what this is. And I’m not going to fall for it. Now leave.”

“This is just what it is, Carrie. An offer. And you can say no if you want to, but I just want you to hear me out first.”

Winnie paused, studying her.

“I get a choice?”

“Of course.”

Winnie looked her up and down skeptically. “I know who you hang around with.”

“I don’t hang around with anyone I don’t want to. And who I  _ do  _ hang with has nothing to do with this.” Emma said. “I’m asking you because I want to.”

That made Winnie falter.

She blinked several times, as if she were trying to wake herself from a dream she knew would never come true. Then, she tilted her head like a confused puppy and asked, “Why?”

Emma felt her heart break.

She could see it now, all the years of torment and bullying and loneliness. Fifteen long years without any friends or anyone to laugh with or anyone to lean on when times get rough. She didn’t know how Winnie did it. 

( _ when she had moved to New York from Indiana when she was seventeen, she thought she would never make friends. she felt like her entire life was ruined, especially after what had prompted the sudden move, that nobody would want to talk to her and like her, and that would be the end of Emma Nolan. _

_ luckily for her, however, lots of people at her new school had wanted to be friends with her, despite the fact that she thought it would be harder because they were all teenagers, and she found her main click in the process--although she didn’t meet the love of her life, Alyssa Greene, until years later.  _

_ but if she hadn’t made all those friends, if, instead, she was met with ridicule and bullying and abuse, there was no way she would have lived this long. _ )

No wonder Winnie looked so miserable all the time. She was just lonely. She wanted a friend, just like Alyssa had said. And Emma was going to be that friend, even if it was only for one night, whether Winnie liked it or not.

She would not be taking no for an answer.

“Maybe ‘cause you liked my poem?”

Winnie stared at her, unconvinced.

“Okay, okay… It’s because you’re…different.” Emma said.

Winnie’s brow twitched a little, and Emma couldn’t tell if she was offended or not. A bird watched them with intrigued black eyes from atop a gangly tree branch.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” Emma clarified quickly. “It’s actually kinda cool. Like an anti-establishment kind of thing.”

Winnie blew out a soft breath from her nose and looked away. That was not the right thing to say. Now she just seemed embarrassed.

“Okay, you’re not different,” Emma said. “You’re, ah…mysterious.” She spoke the word with a playful grin and Winnie looked up, a slight light returning to her eyes. “How’s that?”

“What--what about Sue Snell?” Winnie asked softly.

“What about her?”

“She’s your girlfriend… Why aren’t you taking her?”

“Oh. Right.” Emma said. “She doesn’t want to go.”

Winnie seemed skeptical. She shifted, pulling her cardigan close around herself like she thought it could protect her heart from being broken. Being asked to Prom seemed like a dream come true to her, but she was so used to being hurt that she couldn’t trust the request at all.

“I asked her if I could take you and she said it was a really good idea.”

“Why would she say that?”

Emma looked around, then leaned in close, “Can you keep a secret?” She asked. “Seriously, I mean it. If this gets back to Sue that I told you this she’ll kill me.”

Winnie’s eyes sparkled with wonderment at being trusted with something and she nodded furiously. “I-I can. I won’t tell, I promise.”

She had no one to tell.

“She thinks you’re really interesting.” Emma told her. 

Winnie was stunned, mouth half open, eyes wide with disbelief.

“She thinks you’ve got a lot more going on than people know.” Emma went on. “And I think a part of her wants to see the look on Chris Hargensen’s face when she finds out that you get to go to Prom and she doesn’t.”

Winnie sniffled, and Emma saw that there were tears in her eyes.

“I would love to,” Winnie stammered. “I would.”

“Then say yes.” Emma urged.

“No,” Winnie shook her head, looking away. “It would be a nightmare…”

“Come on, tomorrow is the last day to buy tickets.”

“No, no,” Winnie wrung her fingers in her cardigan nervously. "It wouldn’t work out at all. W-we can’t-- I can’t be with people--”

“Sure you can,” Emma said. “Listen, I know you’ve been alone for a long time. I don’t blame you for being so guarded, I would be, too. But if you can give me a chance, I promise I won’t let you down.”

“Carrie, supper!” A voice called from within the house.

“In a minute, Mama!” Winnie called back. She looked at Emma, ushering her again. “You better go.”

Emma didn’t budge, though. 

“Will you?” Emma asked.

“I can’t,” Winnie choked out. She was trying very hard to keep herself from crying, and it was making her voice crack and pitch in a heartbreaking way.

“You’re going.” Emma said firmly.

“They’ll laugh,” Winnie said miserably. She shook her head, whimpering. “They always laugh, Tommy…”

“No one will laugh.” Emma promised her. “If they do,” She gently lifted Winnie’s chin to look into her glistening eyes, “I’ll kick their ass.”

A few tears managed to spill free and streamed down Winnie’s cheeks, which were dusted with a faint pink blush. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath, then whispered, “Okay.”

Emma perked up. “Is that a yes?”

Slightly louder this time, more confident, voice thick with tears of joy, “Yes. I’ll go.”

“Great!” Emma beamed. “I’ll pick you up at 7:30.”

And Winnie actually smiled weakly. “Fine.”

“Oh, also,” Emma said. “If your mom asks, I’m a boy.”

There was a tiny laugh. “Okay.”

Emma grinned. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

And as she was walking back to her truck to wait for Alyssa to come out of hiding she heard a soft, but joyful and eager, “Thank you!”


	14. It Hurts To Be Strong

**Carrie "Winnie" White**

Winnie couldn’t eat. 

Her stomach ached for food, but she was far too nervous to take a bite out of her chicken pot pie, afraid she might throw it right back up.

Well, at least that would get her out of telling her Mama…

No. She had to.

But it was just so  _ hard _ . Every time she made a move to bring up the Prom, Dee Dee spoke again, and she simultaneously thanked and hated her for it.

Thunder rumbled deeply and rain began to patter against the roof, then the windows. A streak of lightning leaked in through the curtains, illuminating Jesus’s scornful stone face on the crucifix above the table. Winnie swallowed thickly, trying not to imagine him telling how sinful she was, how horrible she was, how she would be going to Hell for even thinking about going to the vile Spring Ball.

“I don’t know what you’ve been dreaming about tonight, Carrie,” Dee Dee said. “You’ve hardly touched your supper. Now have some pie.”

Winnie looked down at her plate, which was covered in the gore of her skewered dinner. Mushed peas and shredded boiled chicken mixed together like lumpy green and white organs on the platter.

“It makes me have pimples, Mama,” Winnie mumbled bitterly, stabbing apart a piece of crust with her fork.

“Nonsense!” Dee Dee said. “As Peter says, the only beauty that matters is the precious light that comes from within.”

Winnie nodded, although she didn’t believe it. She swallowed hard again, feeling her nerves well up in the back of her throat until she felt like she was drowning in her own anxiety. She looked back up at Jesus, and he looked even more resentful towards her than ever.

She had to do this.

_ “Mama don’t you think it’s time _

_ I should try to get along…” _

“Whatever are you going on about, Carrie?” Dee Dee asked. “Being different is the Lord’s blessing.”

_ “ _ _ Mama people think I’m strange _

_ All the kids have called me names…” _

“Well then just don’t listen to them,” Dee Dee said dismissively. “It is written, ‘He who hears My voice alone shall be saved.’”

_ “Mama can’t we stop and talk, _

_ There’s this boy named Tommy Ross…” _

Dee Dee’s eyes went cold.

_ “Carrietta…” _

She plunged into the depths of her anxiety and anticipation.

_ “I’ve been invited to the Prom.” _

Instant relief washed over her, the heavy weight on her chest lifting and allowing her to breathe, and she even let herself smile slightly at the memory of Emma asking her that evening. It seemed more and more magical the more she played it over in her head. It slowly became real each time it looped over, and she could feel giddy, childlike glee bubbling up inside of her when she imagined herself on Tommy [ _ Emma _ ] Ross’s arm at Prom.

And then she looked at her Mama’s face, and all her worry came crashing back down on top of her.

Her Mama did not look happy or excited for her at all. Her Mama looked angry and scared and concerned and disappointed all at once. Her Mama had wide, are-you-serious eyes. Her Mama had “no” sitting on her tongue. 

Her Mama looked like she already hated her date.

“Prom?” Dee Dee echoed, saying the word as if it were a curse.

_ “I never dreamed that I could go _

_ when he first asked and I said no _

_ He asked me twice _

_ He asked me twice.” _

She was starting to get lost in the wonderment of what had happened. These kinds of things only occurred in her dreams, and even then it was a stretch. But this--

_ “And so I finally told him yes _

_ I thought if I could make my dress _

_ I might look nice _

_ I might look nice.” _

This was  _ real. _

_ “I know I'm not like all the others _

_ Sometimes I dream in colors _

_ Sometimes I even think I’m lovely! _

_ Nobody feels the things that I do _

_ Mama, please ,I'm just not like you _

_ Maybe I'll find someone to love me!” _

Winnie and Dee Dee stared at each other in silence. Winnie swallowed thickly. Dee Dee pressed her tongue into the inside of her lip, taking a long, slow sip of her tea. Thunder crackled loudly from outside.

“ Tommy’s a very nice boy and he’ll have me home by midnight,” Winnie said cautiously. “It’s Saturday. I’ve accepted, Mama. I’ve  _ accepted _ .”

Dee Dee lurched forward and threw her tea into Winnie’s face.

Winnie shut up instantly, only letting a gasp of pain escape her lips. She clawed for a napkin, scrubbing off the hot, sticky liquid that smelled like peppermint, and prayed that burns wouldn’t be left behind.

_ “I remember how those boys could dance,”  _ Dee Dee began to sing in a low, haunting voice.  _ “Pressing close on Friday nights _

_ They could sweep me away…” _

“Mama?” Winnie called nervously.

_ “ _ _ Oh how those boys were demons of romance _

_ In their cars we chased the lights _

_ I know just how boys will behave…” _

“Not this boy, Mama! He isn’t like the others. He’s nice, you’ll see, really you will.” Winnie said desperately. “Everyone isn’t bad, Mama. Everything’s not a sin!”

Dee Dee picked up her tea cup and smashed it over Winnie’s head.

( _ even for a breakaway glass, it still kinda hurt. _ )

With a muted cry of pain, Winnie’s body crumpled and folded, teetering off of the chair and to the ground. Winnie groaned weakly, her head spinning and throbbing.

_ “ _ _ Oh how your father whispered in my ear _

_ First the kiss and then the touch _

_ Mixing lies with the truth,” _

Dee Dee began advancing on Winnie, and Winnie scrambled backwards fearfully. She didn’t like the way her Mama was looking at her… 

_ “He would sigh and try to draw me near _

_ Oh he’d swear he cared so much _

_ That’s what the boys do,” _

There was madness and lust flashing in her Mama’s dark eyes.

_ “They’ll make promises! _

_ They will break your heart! _

_ Then they’ll laugh at you watching you fall apart! _

_ Don’t you think that I know? _

_ Don’t you think this has happened before? _

_ It’s the smell of the blood that will drive them mad _

_ Chasing you like a whore!” _

Winnie jumped to her feet, crying, “No!”

She tried to get away, but Dee Dee followed her fervently, braying,  _ “Don't you know their game? _

_ Have you lost your mind? _

_ Can’t you see Satan’s passion has made you blind? _

_ And this boy’s like the rest _

_ And they’re all like the serpents who crawl _

_ You can beg all you want to, but I recall…” _

A sick smirk twisted on Dee Dee’s lips.

_ “How your father came to me that night…” _

A pit opened up in Winnie’s stomach. This was the first time that her mother was actually discussing her father with her. Usually, she would be happy to finally hear about him, but not like this. Not like this. 

_ “That doesn’t mean that the same thing will happen to me!” _ Winnie said.

“ With the smell of smoke and gin…”

_ “ _ _ Give me the chance and you'll see!” _

_ “ _ _ With the lust in his eyes!” _

Dee Dee reached out and grabbed Winnie by the shoulder, yanking her into her heat. 

_ “And he took me and touched me _

_ I tried to fight!” _

Winnie could  _ feel  _ the hunger, now. It radiated from her Mama in ravenous waves, a want so ferocious and insane that she felt cowed by it, tiny in the face of it, and she probably would have crumbled into a little ball if it weren’t for the hot, sweaty body grappling onto her.

_ “ _ _ Mama please listen you don't hear a word that I've said!”  _ Winnie shouted.

Dee Dee’s hands, hooked into claws, scratched at Winnie’s belly and chest and thighs, like she was trying to find an entrance to her young daughter’s sensitive flesh. She fervently began working away the button’s on Winnie’s shirt.

_ “S _ _ atan made your father sin!” _ Dee Dee howled.

_ “ _ _ Sometimes I wish you were dead!” _ Winnie yelled.

_ “A _ _ nd the sin never dies!” _

Winnie felt like she was paralyzed for a brief, horrifying moment, unable to move or breathe or speak.

And then all the feeling in her body came rushing back to her in one huge tidal wave and she shoved as hard as she could against Dee Dee. 

Dee Dee was slightly shocked, blinking like she was in a daze, and then narrowed her eyes into a dangerous glare. She grabbed Winnie by the shirt as she was trying to get away, tearing off the buttons and ripping it open. 

Winnie collapsed, yanked to the ground, and cracked her already-aching jaw against the hardwood floor. Blood filled her mouth again. She moaned weakly, pain invading all her senses. 

Above her, Dee Dee watched on with disgust, the lust in her eyes receding behind the repulse--for now.

“Oh, Mama, please stop!” Winnie begged through sobs. 

“You’re not going!” Dee Dee growled. 

“ I’ve already said that I would, Mama!” Winnie cried. “I’ve said yes!”

“ Then say no! Tell him you changed your mind.” Dee Dee said, then turned and began to storm away.

“ Mama, come back!” Winnie pleaded.

“ The rain’s coming in,” Dee Dee said. “I have to close the windows.”

_ Flex _

_ Flex _

**Fission**

“ I’ll get them!” Winnie exploded.

Lurching to her feet, she thrusted out her hand and slammed all the windows in the house shut, causing her mother to shriek in terror, crumpling to the ground.

“Witch!!”

Winnie turned to her, shaking, shirt hanging open and revealing the expanse of scarred, bruised, and cut up flesh that was her stomach. Angry red scratches stretched down her skin from when Dee Dee had been clawing at her, and a small spot of blood was growing on the left cup of her skin-colored bra. Her eyes were shiny and blank.

( _the raw scar on her shoulder glowed an unreal red._ )

_ “I am not afraid of you at all, _

_ I have nothing left to lose,” _

She choked a tight, painful laugh and tears streamed down her cheeks.

_ “ _ _ I have power I can use _

_ Nothing you can say or do _

_ will ever stop me,” _

She ripped off her cross necklace. 

“Again…”

As Dee Dee began to fervently mutter the Prayer of Exorcism from Deuteronomy, Winnie staggered back over to the dinner table and sat down. She took a big bite out of her chicken pot pie. 

She was so hungry.


End file.
